


Scavenged

by LucGilJaq



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Eventual Character Death, F/F, Fluff and pining, Found Family, Mild Language, Self-Loathing, Slow Burn, We're protecting each other, character study gone wild, headcanons galore, lobalore rights, pain and grief, she's not protecting me and i'm not protecting her, some titanfall refs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 86,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25214803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucGilJaq/pseuds/LucGilJaq
Summary: She had never bled like this in the Games. There was no protection here, no more second chances. It wasn't just an unfair match; this time, it was a fight for her life.But then it wasn't her own life she was fighting for.
Relationships: Wattson | Natalie Paquette/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Comments: 49
Kudos: 302





	1. Debut

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I'm just a season 4 baby, and quickly fell in love with Wraith and Wattson. Started writing this before Revenant's first major buff. Been soaking in all the lore and quest content and gradually writing and rewriting this story over the past few months. At this point tho I just rly need to get the first chapter up and be done with it. Was originally only supposed to be a single chapter character study, but now it's a multi-chapter headcanon dump with a trace of a plot superimposed on it. Have fun (maybe)

**Debut**

_"This is wrong."_

Sky-colored eyes clouded over, then shortly snapped shut in disdain. 

_"They're up to something here."_

A terse shake of the head to quiet the voices. Wraith’s head was hung as she concentrated on silencing the flurry of warnings. Drop-time for the Game of the week was only moments away. It was time to reign in those murmurs crowding up her mind; time to calm herself – all of her selves. There would be plenty of opportunities for them to be heard inside the arena. When Wraith next opened her eyes, she noticed how her momentary distraction had caught the attention of her current squadmates. Bloodhound and Wattson both pierced her with sideways stares. The latter was obviously concerned, while the former was... unreadable, as usual. Wraith gave a short nod to the two of them. Bloodhound reciprocated, seemingly satisfied as they turned their gaze elsewhere.

Wraith then glanced around at the others in the dropship. All were squared off into their respective teams, each squad waiting in their own corner until the arena came into range. It would be any minute now. 

_"She's still watchi-"_

"Everything alright? Not sleeping well?" Wattson's voice came soft and curious. Wraith's attention shifted to her rather hesitantly, not entirely willing to discuss it. What could she say? Their enemies-to-be had yet to pose any threat here on the dropship. The warnings were likely not anything worth bothering her teammates over. 

"No worse than usual. I'm fine."

The words came out a bit rushed for her liking. And a bit loud as she was subconsciously trying to speak over the Others in her head. Wattson certainly didn't seem satisfied with her response.

Warnings such as these were irrelevant here. The Games were her profession, and she had the discipline to treat them as such. It didn't matter what outside worries her alternates voiced. She needed to focus on the now.

Wraith had the tendency to overthink things anyway, a flaw that no doubt affected her more talkative alternate selves as well. They had something to say about everything. Paranoia seemed to be the singular most constant companion, for her and the Others. The current harsh whispers could be attributed to no more than that. Overtired paranoia - her onlooking alter egos overreacting to the almost out-of-place calmness that rested upon the dropship. She could convince herself that was all it was.

Convincing Wattson was a different matter. 

The young woman had shot her with a dissatisfied pout that nearly caught Wraith off guard, as if there was something to be guilty about for brushing her off. Wraith held her breath, expecting Wattson to offer up a helping hand and pry further. She always did. But Wraith couldn't accept, naturally. She never did. Her mental burden was her own, and she had made a poignant effort to ensure the others didn't get entangled within her troubles.

Yet Wattson had one of the biggest hearts on the roster, and her radiance bore down incessantly upon Wraith’s emotional walls. She almost wanted to give in, but she couldn't afford to make an exception. Not even for Natalie.

If Wattson had further questions to ask, her window of opportunity had passed. The banners within the dropship flashed to life, showing off the assigned squads and their seasonal records. Places were taken on the drop pads as the bay doors lowered the fighters into the open.

The last few months had been going well for Wraith, as her statistics clearly showed to any who cared to look. The previous week had been an overwhelming win for her and her team, and incidentally the current week's champion bounty was on herself. They would have to play it safe and secure to come out on top. With a crew like Bloodhound and Wattson at her side, she wasn't worried.

_"There may be a trap."_

It was time to focus. 

_"Get ready for the worst."_

She always did. 

_"This won't be like the other games."_

Now what did _that_ mean?

Wraith gazed down into the open arena beneath her. Most of the roster had already taken the leap, but Wattson was holding her squad back a moment longer. She was studying those other contestants, watching their trajectories, calculating her own perfect drop. The earlier pout on her lips had now been replaced by excitement - no trace of any previous concern. The sight relieved Wraith. Couldn't have her squadmates worrying over her unnecessarily. She was the interdimensional ghost of the battlefield, after all. She was her own responsibility. No one worried about her because no one needed to, and that was how she liked it. 

When her eyes next drew to Wattson, Wraith found herself nearly entranced by the intensity in her face. The plethora of anxieties resounding through her mind were tuned out as she watched those shining blue eyes. The nervous whispers of her alternate selves drifted farther and farther away until Wattson finally cried out "Skyhook!", and dove immediately towards their destination. 

Without hesitation, Wraith leaped out after her, allowing the adrenaline of the drop to further clear her head. Ever since Wattson's arrival, she couldn't help but gravitate towards her, and yet couldn't figure out why. With any other squad, Wraith was more the drifter - always on offense, sniffing out the flank, staying one step apart from her teammates. But with Wattson-?

The impact of landing shook her from her thoughts. She and Wattson had dropped upon adjacent buildings, hurriedly scrounging through for gear before meeting up at ground level. Wraith burst through the exit door just as Wattson did across the alleyway. The younger one's first reaction was a startled gasp. Once recognizing Wraith, however, she followed up with a bright smile and wordlessly turned towards her next destination. That beaming face of hers was infectious, and Wraith caught herself sporting a tiny grin in return.

She stepped out onto the street, but shortly came to a stop while the others continued on. The development surrounding the Skyhook tower seemed to be completely empty save for their squad. Plenty of loot to be had for just the three of them. She remained where she stood in the middle of the street however. Something was certainly off, but now it wasn't just the Others telling her so. They should have heard the first round announcements by now, yet all was eerily silent. A long, uneasy moment passed.

"Wraith!" Wattson vaulted a nearby fence and trotted over to her. "What's the matter?"

_"It's too quiet."_

She couldn't shrug it off this time. Wraith quietly responded, "Something... I don't know."

Then, at last, the familiar announcement. "Attention. First blood."

Wraith's eyes shifted to a projection on a nearby wall that showed her squad's banners. She really was just paranoid, wasn't she?

"Before Round One commences, please listen to the following announcement."

Now that was different. Wattson grew very quiet as she lifted her head to focus on the overcomm voice. 

"This is a trial run of a new Apex game. Your quarry is the currently instated champion. The individual to eliminate this champion will automatically win the match as well as the Grand Prize. All current official squads are heretofore disbanded."

Wraith froze, hardly making a move other than widened eyes glancing sideways at her teammate. 

The announcer continued, "Only the one to kill the champion may deem who may share in the prize. Choose your alliance wisely, or hunt carefully if you wish to fight alone. All other Apex rules are in effect. Find the quarry, eliminate them, and become the new Champion. Grand Prize funded by ARES Scientific. Welcome to the Scavenger Hunt."

The P.A. overcomm went silent, and on cue, the banner projection that showed the current champion squad dropped her teammates to show only Wraith as the sole bounty. She felt the fires of buried rage burning through her scalp. The voices had suspected a trap, but she would have never expected the game itself to ambush her.

Not to mention the name ARES-

_"You're not safe."_

That she already knew. Wraith spun, readying her weapon as she faced the direction of Bloodhound's approaching footsteps. Wattson she was less worried about - the girl hadn't moved an inch since the announcement ended. Still, as a precaution, Wraith loaded her second hand with her sidearm, backing away from her two former squadmates. 

"A false hunt it would be if I were to kill you here and now," said Bloodhound. Their weapons were stowed, raven upon their shoulder. "Hardly seems fair game to begin the bounty with you already in the sights of your enemies."

"This isn't right," Wattson stated. Her initial shock had worn off. "It's more than unfair! It's incredibly dangerous to make such changes while the game is underway." 

Wraith had backed out of the street and into the wall by now, weapons still at the ready. Her spine pressed up against her own lonely poster on display behind her. Though she had always fought well with the two before her, she had also battled against them just as many times. Despite their budding friendship, even Wattson was wont to end her without hesitation - frighteningly so - if it meant securing the championship. 

There was truly no reason for the two to be hesitating now.

But Wattson and Bloodhound had yet to raise a hand against her. The two were instead seeking out each other’s intentions. 

“I don't like this... Why can’t we remain as a squad?” Wattson asked. “The announcer said we could pick our own team.”

A shake of the head from Bloodhound. “If victory is only assured through the death of the champion, then the champion is my target.”

Wraith lifted her weapons – a shotgun and revolver, both trained upon Bloodhound. They raised a hand towards her in a show of peace.

“Not to worry. I will not attack you here and now.”

Next, the hunter pulled up the arena map on their personal banner. 

“The ring’s not far. Pick which side you wish to go from here, and we will go the opposite. When the second round begins, so does the hunt.”

Wattson hung her head with a pout. “I guess that’s a little more fair.”

She nervously scraped the toe of her sneaker along the asphalt before turning up those blue eyes to meet Wraith’s. 

“But I still don’t like the idea of betraying my squad,” she continued. 

Wraith finally managed to relax her grip on her weapons. These two were dangerous fighters in the arena yes, but at least she could trust them even as adversaries. Though fierce and relentless, Bloodhound was an honorable hunter. Meanwhile Wattson was... hard to explain. A force of nature yet still the eye of the storm. Past experiences within the games gave her no reason to trust this girl. This girl who had gripped and lifted Wraith with nothing but the intangible power of static. This girl who had pranced up to her dying body and electrocuted her senseless. A fuzzy wave washed over her at the mere recollection.

Yet here in this moment, seeing Wattson's mournful face was enough to stir faith within her. 

“It’s okay. I'll fight alone,” Wraith mumbled. The coarseness of her own voice surprised her. Had she been holding her breath the whole time?

She stepped away from the wall, walking between Bloodhound and Wattson as she strolled back into the street. The very air of the arena felt stifling to her now. Checking her map, she saw that the next round lay to the east. Wraith gestured in the general direction of the distant Refinery. “I’ll head to the north side.”

Bloodhound acknowledged. “Very well, we go to the south then. May the gods bless you in your fight.”

The hunter hurried off towards the mountain pass, sending Artur ahead to scout along their southern trek. Wraith, in turn, moved to follow her own path-

“Wait. Wraith.”

Her feet faltered at how Wattson spoke. Heartfelt and heavy. Wraith was once again blindsided. Wattson hardly hid her emotions, and yet, Wraith never saw it coming when she displayed them on her sleeve. Each time it came like an ambush, sending her thoughts into disarray as she tried to process the genuine concern emanating from her friend. Yes, the girl had often proudly proclaimed that her squad was her family, and she shared that loyalty with all. But Wraith knew the true family she referred to were those beacons of light (Caustic notwithstanding) who had brought Wattson to the games in the first place. Maybe that was what Wraith wished for - to be that family in the girl's eyes. It was a silent wish that would shortly grow into a yearning. As much as she preferred to remain distant from her fellow legends, when it came to Wattson, it just wasn't enough to be a mere ghost on the battlefield. 

Yet for now, Wraith couldn't dwell on such things. It was high time for her to usher away her friend and former squadmate before any danger befell them. Wattson had been waiting for her acknowledgement.

“Better catch up with ‘em, Wattson,” Wraith finally said as she turned to the girl, assuming a more calm, casual stance. Hopefully the air of confidence would act as a smoke screen to cover up the discord within.

“Please don’t die.”

Wraith nodded. “Want to eliminate me yourself, right?”

She hardly gave her words a second thought as she spoke, letting a grin play. It was nothing more than a witty gambit she had learned through many squad-ups with Mirage. He had always attempted senseless banter to try and pry through her thick skin. It helped in its own way; his remarks and antics often baffled the Others into much-needed silence. Overall, however, Mirage mostly succeeded in receiving only eye-rolls and dismissals. 

Wraith's words would also be dismissed in the same manner. She frowned, shifting uneasily. She had never seen Wattson so somber. 

“You know ARES is a division of the IMC," said the girl. "I... I really don't have a good feeling about this. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

Wraith felt the chords of her throat tie themselves into a knot. Wattson had a point. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence that an IMC research branch would sponsor an Apex game where she happened to be the sole target. Her teammate's reservations about the Scavenger Hunt might actually be justified. But survival was safety, right? She just had to keep her cool and outlast all the others. The Apex rules were still in effect after all. 

Wattson was still awaiting her answer. She swallowed against the knot and kept her voice steady. “Sure, I promise.”

“And I promise I will protect you any way I can.”

_"Let her stay."_

Wraith blinked at the voices. No. If this game was truly ARES targeting her, then she wasn’t about to let Wattson paint crosshairs on her own back. She couldn't put her friend in such danger. In or out of the arena. 

“Warning!” The announcer’s voice returned. “Ring movement in progress.”

“Go with Bloodhound,” Wraith said softly.

Another sharp frown from Wattson, but the young woman finally relinquished and ran off in the direction her squadmate had gone. Wraith let her shoulders slump ever so slightly, finding herself, again, somewhat guilty at turning away her help. 

Her guilt resonated with her alternate selves, and this time they crowded her head with a dozen reprimands, all indignant at her rejecting Wattson’s offer. 

_"Go bring her back, idiot."_

Not this time. First things first. She needed proper gear, then needed the safety of the ring. There was only a few more minutes available to her. Wraith scurried on through the Skyhook development, snatching up whatever useful equipment she could find as she circled around to the train station.

_"One of these days she'll stop trying."_

Wraith winced and shook her head against the flurry continuing to pester her. Somehow that particular thought stung like a needle. She had always done her best to ensure no one needed to look out for her. She was the loner of the arena: callous, standoffish, near volatile. The other fighters had only vague ideas of her nature, and it was enough to allow her an emotional distance from most of them. Yet Wattson always insisted on protecting her, and in turn she couldn't help but do the same. There was something about her. The splintered scar that gripped her bright freckled face. The inability to stand still. The strong posture with which she ran. The way those arms cradled her weapon. The list went on, as Wraith's mind played each of Wattson's compelling traits before her.

This was unfamiliar territory. Territory that she would rather stay away from. Never before had she so quickly bonded with someone - at least to her memory. The girl seemed to genuinely care for her, though she admittedly seemed that way around everyone. It didn't matter to her that Wattson likely didn't see her in the same light; her constant cold front still faltered when faced with the oceanic depths of those blue eyes. Wraith was the moth, Wattson was the flame, and in the glow of that electric light she felt safe. 

But that safety certainly didn't go both ways. Not in this situation.

_"You won’t survive alone."_

Amongst the chorus of the Others, that statement was the one that grounded her. This was still a game of survival. Wraith's specialty was her sneakiness, and without her squad, she now had the low profile to snoop unseen to her heart’s delight. After all, the remaining contenders would be fighting each other for the grand prize as well. She just needed to wait it out.

By the time she climbed up onto the train tracks north of the Skyhook tower, she had a well-kitted arsenal at her disposal. Sniper, assault rifle, ordnance, and plenty of defensive support. She certainly missed her usual SMG, but she had no intention of fighting close quarters in such a high risk game. 

_"A dropship."_

She heard it before the voices even told her. Someone was redropping into the games on the other side of the mountains, at the northernmost beacon of the arena. Wraith teetered with indecision. Instinct told her to pursue – a freshly dropped squad was incredibly vulnerable. But reason forced her to hesitate. There was no way of knowing just how big this squad was. If more than three of the other fighters had decided to work together, she could be in serious danger. 

Perhaps she could slip through the south passage of the train tunnel. Wraith sneaked as quickly and quietly as she could into the mountain through which the train tracks delved. A risky move, but her weapon was at the ready in the event she should be spotted. It was hardly fathomable anybody would be coming in her direction anyway, being that the circle was now steadily overtaking the Skyhook development. Any recovering squad would be wise to move east towards safety.

She was wrong, however. Two silhouettes stepped into view at the far side of the tunnel, where the tracks continued on towards the Refinery. She only had a split second to react. Wraith strafed directly into the void and didn't reappear until she was behind cover at the south fork of the tunnel. She held her breath as she listened to determine if the oncomers had spotted her. Their oblivious voices echoed through the empty tunnel.

“All I’m sayin’ is you owe me one!”

“I already didya favor, brother. When you used me as a human shield for one of your holographs.”

“Hey c’mon. It was the heat of the battle. Nothin’ personal. At least I escaped and brought you back, right?”

Gibraltar and Mirage. Wraith rolled her eyes as she assessed their condition. The two seemed to be out of sorts – Mirage winded, Gibraltar weaponless. 

“You sure it’s worth it to loot up Skyhook?” Gibraltar asked. “I mean, look at that ring. Don’t think we got the time.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it. We jump in, snatch up a few things, and skedlale- skale, uh ski... Skim around the south side. Easy.”

_"Idiot."_

Wraith smirked at her alternate's commentary. 

“…You’re really just hoping to run into her here, right?” Gibraltar asked after a pause. The smirk disappeared.

“Well that would be a nice perk. Everyone knows the best way to win is to catch someone outside the ring.”

The idiot had a point, although a moot point. Without a squad, there was nothing to keep her outside.

Speaking of which, it was time to move. 

Wraith had just barely taken a step out of cover, when a shot rang through the tunnel. She froze in her tracks as her senses strained to find the source of the blast. Then came another. Both had been aimed at Mirage, and he was successfully dropped to the floor. His companion hovered over him in defense. The dome shield flashed to life in the nick of time as further semi-automatic rounds barreled through the cavern. Wraith watched breathlessly, once again hiding behind cover. There was a pause in the fire, and Gibraltar took the opportunity to scavenge through Mirage’s gear for what it was worth. 

She heard the metallic footsteps as they came down the tunnel from the east side. Revenant. The stalker calmly sauntered towards the barrier, automatic shotgun now in hand. Gibraltar held his ground with a puny pistol held forward.

“Are you ready to meet your maker, you mechanical bastard?” The man challenged Revenant, his intense voice still somehow jovial. “Heh, 'cause if you are, step right on in!”

The nightmare was not deterred, but Gibraltar was prepared for more than just a bull-headed last stand. As Revenant stepped into the cover of the shield, the man backed out. He coaxed the assassin into a silly game of duck and strafe, always making sure to keep a wall of energy between him and his attacker. But he had neither the firepower nor the defense to last forever against Revenant. Wraith readied her sniper. As soon as that shield dissipated, she would pick them both off.

_"He might have seen you."_

The warning startled Wraith as she flattened herself against the wall behind cover, but the roar that burst from Revenant told her she was too late. Being instigated to cut his dance of cat and mouse short, he dove directly into Gibraltar. Revenant’s body was powerful enough to piledrive the man into the ground and fire his shotgun at point-blank range. Gibraltar's yells were short-lived, stirring a sinking feeling in Wraith's stomach. Revenant was notorious for his nasty, drawn out executions. It was obvious he was ending Gibraltar fast so he could focus on his true prey.

She wasn't one to run from a fight, but others were bound to arrive to investigate Revenant's gunfire. Capping the simulacrum while he was unaware was one thing; engaging in a one-on-one duel at the edge of the ring was another. There wasn't time for that. Not here. She needed to leave.

_"Move!"_

Wraith scrambled to her feet and bolted for the south exit of the tunnel. A flurry of shotgun bursts sounded behind her, followed by the ghostly report of Revenant's silence bomb landing mere paces away.

The closing ring was only a half dozen meters incoming. She needed speed. She would have to risk the portal. Clenching a hand to her wrist, she forced open a rift in the void, allowing the vacuum of space-time to pull her forward at an incredible speed. The mountain tunnel fell away behind her, and she swiftly turned to the left for the relative safety that was to be found at the nearby encampment. At least there she would be inside the circle and have nearby shelter to use as cover.

As the void released her, Wraith flung herself around to face the end of the portal, allowing inertia to pull her backwards down the landscape. No doubt Revenant was hot on her tail. Her sniper was in hand, charging sights locked on the portal, waiting for the blueness of the void to be pierced by Revenant’s red and gray. What came through instead, however, was a quaking mass of charcoal gold embers. 

Her finger squeezed the trigger. Instinct remained true, and the shot to the face sent Revenant’s remnants spiraling back whence they came. Back outside the ring. Wraith let herself breathe for an instant longer before hurrying onward to the far western edge of the icy Epicenter. 

_"It’s not safe here."_

That much was obvious. She was still out in the open, despite hugging the crystal structures around her.

The overcomms blared to life. “Round Two. Beginning ring countdown.”

Wraith glanced at her banner and winced. She had another trek before her, some ways further to the east. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the placement was rigged to keep her on the move. 

_"Get out of there."_

Right. She needed to keep going. Wraith circled around the edge of the Epicenter’s crater, trying to discern any movement. Couldn’t afford to make haste if there was the chance of walking right into a trap. Wraith stopped in her tracks as she strained to hear a faint noise filtering through on the wind. The silvery sweeping of metal brushing against metal. Back and forth, back and forth. A slow, steady tempo like stalking footsteps. 

_"Behind you!"_

Her mind hissed at her in an urgent whisper, as if her alternate self were too scared to even make a noise from across dimensions. 

There wasn’t time to look.

Wraith flung her arm up, ready to drag herself into the phase world. Her stalker was one step ahead of her. A projectile collided with her raised arm, spawning orange chains to wrap around her wrist and clamp down upon the void gauntlet. Wraith stumbled backwards as she clawed at the offending chains, but doing so only encouraged them to spread. From arm to arm they encircled her body, the crackling orange too scalding for comfort. She grimaced when the golden arcs of the chains overtook the blue energy in her gauntlet, rendering her connection to the void inert. And then they constricted.

This was new. Her arms were pinned to her body by the biting restraints. Fighting back was out of the question, so she began to run. Off balance, staggering about, she was like a cat trying to free itself from the dark embrace of a blanket. 

A powerful shot hit her square in the shoulderblade, shattering the barrier of energy that shielded her body. Wraith was completely vulnerable. By the time the chains finally weakened enough for her to reach her weapon, it was too late. A force like a railroad stake pierced through her knee, throwing her to the ground. 

Wraith’s already clouded eyes flashed into a shimmering white as a legion of voices commanded her to act. She couldn’t let the pain of a shattered kneecap stop her from defending herself. Shaking hands grasped at her dropped assault rifle, but even that was stomped out of her grip by none other than Revenant. When their eyes met, her pained face contorted in confusion. True, it could have been none other than him; it was his silence bomb that had hit her after all. But how had he manipulated the silencer to be so... effective? And worse yet, how had he even survived the oven that was the closing ring?

“Surprised to see me. Hmph, I knew you would be.”

Her hand flew to her grenade. Perhaps if she could stick an arc star up his chassis-

A blow to the face from the butt of his shotgun weakened her senses just long enough for him to kick the offending weapon out of her hand.

Wraith glared up at him, unwilling to give up. Her face felt like it was on fire, the muscles in her shoulder strained, not to mention her leg now rendered useless. Wraith forced herself to straighten her body where she knelt. She refused to cower before this thing.

Revenant was observing his own hand, twiddling his fingers tentatively. “Looks like you don’t really know what’s going on. The game is fixed.”

Of course she knew that. Wraith held her stare as he hesitated. Those smoldering eyes of his seemed to carry the weight of lifetimes of sadness. "If only my impending doom were as certain as yours."

Wraith snatched her sniper from where it hung around her body. If the monster wanted to die, who was she to deny him?

Revenant's programming proved faster. His suddenly knifelike fist plunged into her chest. He aimed lower than usual, missing the heart in favor of hooking the piercing hand under her sternum. Wraith choked violently on the intrusion into her system, but still managed to squeeze out a single trigger pull. 

A direct hit from the Triple Take shattered Revenant's shield. Unphased, his golden eyes narrowed into menacing slits. Wraith's pearly whites glowered back in return. She was ready to fire again, but the simulacrum halted her by shoving his hand deeper, nearly hitting her spine. Her body reacted against her will with a wrenching spasm that forced her to drop her weapon. Weakened hands pried at the limb sunken in up to the wrist. Such an action only prompted Revenant to pull her closer. He reeled her in, letting the weight of her body fall upon her sternum and ribcage as he straightened and lifted her up.

Bolts of pain shot outward from her core to her extremities at the movement; her mouth gaped as her lungs struggled to expand around the hand that had invaded her chest. Thunderous drumming began to roll about inside Wraith’s head as she felt the very life in her veins pumping away through the wound. It was a new feeling. The pain and death normally found in the Apex games was a far lesser cry than this.

A half amused grunt reverberated from Revenant. “You won’t be coming back from this one, you realize. Lucky little skinbag.”

Terror lanced through her chest in similar manner to Revenant’s hand. She'd known the game was designed for her to lose. She'd understood that a powerful conglomerate had set a bounty on her head. But only now was death truly beginning to dawn on her. He was killing her, for good.

At least he would be robbed of the satisfaction of seeing the life leave her eyes, for in that moment, an isolated bullet whistled through the cold air and razed through Revenant's metal skull. He dropped in a shower of sparks.

Wraith’s face was twisted in pain as she too fell to the ground. Face to face she lay next to the dead Revenant. Her eyes were whiter than ivory for only a moment longer while the roar of a thousand voices was washed away into nothing. The fog fled from her eyes, but now it occupied her mind with the haze of shock. The weight of the world had fallen upon her body, burying her in the snow. Wraith could hardly move. Each limb was a mountain, rooted in stone, while the fiery magma fumed within her core. 

The Others were gone. Her head was utterly silent. Perhaps they had given up. Perhaps the multitude relinquished to watch her fade away alone. Perhaps there was just nothing more to say. She would soon be more dead than the temporarily terminated simulacrum beside her.

Wraith was skewered upon a silver platter for whoever might stumble upon her and finish what Revenant started. With the boiling blood churning in her stomach around the metal hand, death would almost be a mercy. No more pain, no more insanity. Nothing but the final solitude of eternal rest. 

Why then, did her heavy hands drift towards the limb embedded within her. Why did her fingers clench around Revenant's wrist and _pull_. 

A powerful gag reflex took hold of Wraith's body as she slid the hand from her wound, and not seconds later did the taste of copper flood her mouth. Her throat rattled as she struggled to breathe past the flow of blood bubbling up her throat. Wraith turned her face down into the snow, letting gravity keep her mouth and airway clear. The throbbing in her brain never stopped, but droned on weaker and fainter with each passing moment - a constant reminder that her heart would relentlessly pound the blood out of her system until there would be too little left to function. 

Her hand was pressed against the wound in spite of the pain, somehow hoping that the touch alone would be enough to stymie the the red river. Wraith turned the angle of her head to look down at her wound, successfully smearing blood from her mouth against her own face. Heart-wrenching panic was setting in as she watched the stain pool around her in the white. She was dying.

She couldn't die here. 

Wraith saw her sniper only inches from where she lay. She lifted a trembling hand, and dropped it upon the barrel of the weapon. Though the white in her gloves was now beet red, she took faith in the security that merely a single gun could bring. She felt safer, even as the thunder in her head began to give way to high-pitched static. She had little time. Wraith pulled her hands to herself, grimacing as the movement sent vibrations through the snow that attacked her ears in a tempest. Teeth clenched, breath held, she flattened her hands against the ground and pushed with all her might. 

Her body revolted immediately. A simple push-up sent her stomach into a wretched convulsion, and Wraith could only crinkle in on herself like a piece of paper. 

She had forgotten that the slope of the Epicenter's crater was directly behind her until that slight movement sent her drifting backwards down the steep grade. Shock continued to eat away at her senses as she slid into the snowy deep. By the time her body came to rest, her vision was filled with white and pale blue, pierced by a stripe of red. She didn't even have the presence of mind to realize she was staring at her own glaring bloodstain that marred the icy hillside. She had in essence drawn a giant red arrow pointing to her exact location in open invitation. Fleeting instinct told her to search for loot - to seek out a healing kit potent enough for her to administer to herself. 

That was instinct from another life now. Her body had no power here. Her fading eyes locked on the red and white; her touch crumbled into numbness from the searing fire of her wounds. All she could hear was thin static piercing her ears like a million icicles. Every impact of each falling snowflake on the ground around her trickled into her head with crystal clarity. The vibrations grew stronger, melding together and unifying until the glittering of glassy ice evolved into a whirling torrent. 

A great wave was approaching through the snow. Wraith heard it grow closer and closer; and then, with a short breathless pause, it came crashing down with a mighty crescendo when something crunched into the snow nearby. The sound was followed by another, gentler impact. And then another. It became a short, staccato rhythm; she was hearing the steady beat of someone's footsteps in the snow following their sliding dive into the crater.

A soft shadow fell upon Wraith's body. An even softer voice fell upon her ears. Words were an entirely different language than that of the snowflakes. A muffled voice was droning over and over: "No, no no, no..."

A foreign object rested on her shoulder and gently turned her over. 

A language she did not understand wafted over her. 

A pain she had almost forgotten flared outwards from her core. 

It was a person leaning over her, their attention upon her wound. Wraith dragged a hand up from the ground to grab at the wrist of the one tying a pressure bandage over the hole in her midsection. With all the strength she could muster, she attempted to tear the stranger away from her. She wanted to rest. She wanted to return to that single instant only a moment ago, where all she was aware of was the sparkling snow around her. 

Her grip was weak and easily removed by her new assailant. Instead, their arms snaked underneath her and lifted her out of the stained white. They were on the move, and yet Wraith's focus was still fixated upon her blood against the Epicenter hillside. Wherever eternity decided to take her, she knew that sight would be the final lasting image to be burned into her mind's eye. Darkness was overtaking her vision behind that image. It could have been her fading consciousness, or it could have been the dim building she was lowered into. 

Wraith was on solid floor now, her head propped up by a plush, cushioned arm. The angle might've been comfortable for someone seeking rest, like her. However, her wounds spoke the opposite. Blood gurgled in her throat and battled against much needed oxygen. Wraith choked and coughed against the flow, spurting red from her mouth. 

The sole purpose of her existence was now to keep breathing. Maybe, with steady breaths, she could finally find respite. 

Her assailant meanwhile, pulled her further up into a sitting position, allowing Wraith's head to droop forward. The blood poured freely through the rivulets already drawn across her face. Rubbery fingers stroked along her cheek, pushing the red away from the corners of her mouth. A futile move, as the flow could not be stopped. 

Wraith couldn't tell if her eyes were opened or closed, or if it even really mattered at this point. The world had distorted into a fuzzy grayscale film. Only blackened silhouettes remained in the room around her, like ghosts unable to reflect the light. They were multiplying, crowding around her, their heads leaning in close. 

A thread of metal pierced her chest, and panic revived in her body anew. It was an injection, and it sparked an old, familiar sensation - the weight upon her numbed body solidified into tightened restraints. Straps formed themselves about her chest, her legs, her arms. Whether she was tied to a chair or strapped to the floor, Wraith didn't know. She only knew what often followed such constriction. The experiments. 

She felt it all over again as her mind went rampant. Needles stabbed repeatedly into her forearms and neck. The void synapses implanted on her arms and legs flared to life with renewed agony at the mere flashback of the labs. Quivering where she sat, Wraith focused all of her remaining mental strength on blocking out the sensation of her skin splitting between the implants that spanned her body in a carefully designed layout. 

"Wraith..." A distant voice, a kind voice. Someone she knew. Wraith attempted to open her eyes, but the darkness remained. 

Then a silver spark glinted in the center of her vision, and her failing heart almost stopped entirely. Her eyelids disobeyed her command to shut against the approaching scalpel. Her body was now forcing her to relive her most hated memory. The worst experiment of all.

During her time in the labs, they had tried to extract a sample of the white film that covered her eyes in response to the void. And due to the nature of that phenomenon, they had to keep her fully awake - with barely a trace of anesthetics. 

"Wraith!" The voice came again, clearer this time, but unable to stop the approach of the scalpel. 

It was her. Wraith knew her. Hers was the voice she distantly wished would call her family. Maybe, in another lifetime, this person could have been her future. It was far too late for that now. In this lifetime, Wraith had rejected the woman she used to be. She was going to die as a nameless ghost with no identity, and no family.

A vice clamped down on her shot knee with a tenderizing grip. Wraith's weakened body only shuddered. She hadn't the strength to react further to any more pain. Her mind was almost gone. The scalpel was nearly touching her pupil. 

"Please stay with me." Wattson. She could almost see the girl. Past the scalpel, past the phantom figures, past the grayscale that enveloped the room, Wattson was there - a blurry clash of blue and orange that demanded to be seen.

She wanted to see her face, one last time. Desperately she wished to slap the knife aside and focus her vision. Wraith squirmed where she sat with a hiss. She couldn't blink away the impending blade, and part of her knew that once it made contact, blackness would smother her forevermore. 

Moments before now, she had been ready to embrace such emptiness. But with Wattson nearby, she couldn’t bear to let go. If only she could hold on a second longer. Wraith forced her bloodied hand against its imaginary restraints, reaching weakly for the girl above her. Though her fingers barely made it a few inches off the ground, Wattson saw and snatched up her hand. 

“I’m here...”

“Nat…” Wraith could hardly breathe out the word.

“Hang on, just a moment longer!”

Her lungs crumpled; her heartrate fell mortally low. Her body was completely numb. Too much damage had been done. 

The scalpel before her began to spark and glow. Azure light from an unknown source danced against the blade. The steel wavered and shook and suddenly shattered just as an arc of lightning struck Wraith square in the chest. Her limbs flailed violently from the impact, eyes and mouth snapping open as the dam burst and life once again pumped through her body. Air flooded into her lungs to cleanse the blood that now raced about her veins.

"Renee?!" Wattson was crying out to her as she felt her consciousness rise from the depths. Wraith gaped at the girl, dumbstruck at the emotion she heard in that voice. Emotion that was targeted towards... her? She saw the tears that shimmered in the corners of Wattson's eyes. Amongst the flurry of sensations whirling about her body - energy from the stim, relief from the painkillers, healing from the microbodies swarming her wounds - something in her heart snapped. She stared breathlessly at the one who had saved her in the middle of a game designed to end her life. 

Swallowing against the metallic flavor in her mouth, Wraith barely croaked out her words. "What are you d-"

"Shush-shh," Wattson cut her off, tapping a finger lightly to Wraith's lips. "I'm helping you, silly. Save your strength."

The girl tried to keep her voice light, but her eyes betrayed her. Wraith's gaze remained locked upon her as she continued to lay limp. Wattson's cheeks were dotted with red that accented the pink scar and gave a mellowing contrast to those ocean blue eyes. Wraith felt a tiny twinge of embarrassment at the vague remembrance of her spitting up blood on the girl tending to her. 

Wattson peeked underneath the pressure bandage that was strapped to Wraith's midsection. "Your wounds were so severe, I had to mix a custom injection for you. Lucky for us there was an emergency kit nearby, yes?"

She pressed the bandage back into place, seemingly satisfied with the rate of healing she saw. Light was returning to Wraith's eyes. She was going to live. 

"It wasn't quite enough at first," Wattson continued somberly. She folded her fingers together. "But I just needed to give you a jump start!" 

Groaning, Wraith attempted to pull herself up. Wattson must have laid her flat on the ground to administer the shock treatment. Though there was no longer any risk of her choking on her own blood, she still wished to sit upright under her own strength. 

She tensed and gasped as pain crawled up her leg from the movement, as if her knee were caught in the jaws of some wild animal. Wattson's hand was immediately at her shoulder. "Non, wait! I know it hurts. I had to set your knee before giving you the injection."

Wraith's weary eyes lifted to meet Wattson's.

"Please sit and heal, Renee," the girl was almost begging. Wraith grimaced, but let herself slide back to the ground. 

That name. Renee. Wraith recalled that day back on Solace when they had stumbled upon the audio logs at the unsurfaced labs. Everyone had seemed so relieved to finally have a name to call their Wraith. But it never fit. She refused to respond to it, insisted the others continue to use her codename. For professional measures, she implied. Or because of a stick up the ass, as Bangalore preferred to put it. Regardless of what anyone thought, Wraith knew why she had rejected the name in the first place. She was no longer that person. Renee wasn't a ghostly half-crazed experiment-gone-wrong. Renee was a pilot. Renee was a scientist. Renee was something Wraith could never reacquire. 

Perhaps Wattson let it slip in the panic of the moment. Wraith had called out to her by name, and the girl only reciprocated. In the end, however, it was still no longer Wraith's name to use. 

A cool, damp cloth was pressed against her lips before brushing aside to wipe away the blood that was caked across her face. Wattson was fully utilizing her plentiful stockpile of medical supplies as she nursed her back to health. The heavy bandage upon her wound was replaced by a clean, less drastic dressing as the healing steadily continued. Her leg was bound in a pressurized splint brace, which would likely be needed to support her footing for the remainder of the game. A splitting pain still held her knee in its grip, though Wraith was certain the sensation was primarily in her head. Just a leftover from the trauma of a shattered kneecap. 

Wattson sat back from her patient to rinse out the small washcloth she had been using. As she did, Wraith saw how her eyes glassed over - the girl was succumbing to her worried thoughts as her fingers played with the cloth. It was only then did Wraith truly see her friend's rather disheveled state. 

She was covered in dust and grime. Her puffy sleeves had been nicked and torn. But it was the cut on her head that Wraith's eyes finally picked up on. A gash ran up from the top of her temple through several inches of the hood of her suit. Dingy blonde hair poked out from beneath the sliced fabric. Wattson had certainly been in a skirmish or two on her way to the Epicenter.

Wraith frowned. “What happened to you?”

The girl’s attention returned to her with a rather sheepish purse of the lips. Wattson subconsciously raised her hand to cover the gash on her head. 

“Well… Bloodhound did.”

“They attacked you?”

“Non,” Wattson’s voice grew increasingly flustered. “I attacked them.”

“You-?”

“I couldn't risk letting you fight this battle by yourself!”

Wraith felt her breath catch in her throat. She watched Wattson's fingers comb the dried blood out of her blond bangs. 

“They were just trying to defend themself. I wish I had time to convince them, but they wouldn’t believe me. I had no other choice.”

Wraith’s frown deepened as she pulled herself up to sit with her back against the wall. The action spurred Wattson to hover over her protectively, watching the bandage and brace to ensure they stayed in place. Even such a small repositioning was enough to tire her out. Wraith let her head fall back to rest on the wall as she let out a frustrated grumble.

Her frustration was just as much for Wattson as it was for her own ailing condition. This girl should not have needed to put her own safety at risk for her sake. Wraith’s heart stung with the unfamiliar pang of helplessness. She hadn’t felt this weak in years. Not even between chronic insomnia and the relentless tug of the void did she ever feel so utterly spent.

She pressed a palm against her eye to rub out the residual burning sensation left over from her hallucination of the scalpel. Even her skin still vaguely tingled from the violent flashback, but at least the overall pain of her wounds was subsiding. 

Wraith patted her pockets in attempt to find her banner, mumbling, "Almost time for me to move on, isn't it?"

Wattson took a peek at her own. "About a minute-thirty until ring closes."

"Still? You're saying I was only down for a minute?" Wraith squinted and moved her hand to grip her head. That battle against death had felt like an eternity. The image of Revenant standing above her was already like a bad dream from a past life. 

"Speed was of the essence," said Wattson quietly. Her hand closed around Wraith's, drawing it to herself where she gently intertwined their fingers. She didn't spare even a glance up at Wraith, keeping her eyes fixed on their joined hands. Her thumb brushed across the seam of Wraith's glove that separated the black from the blood-stained white.

Wraith didn't know what to make of this gesture. Moments before, when she was on the ground dying, she could only wish for that fleeting outside comfort. She never would have guessed that Wattson would arrive on the scene, not only to save her, but to extend that very comfort that she had been seeking. 

"Thanks for that," Wraith's words came out forced and awkward. She couldn’t figure out how to process this, but there was no time anyway. She needed to move. Wattson had done more than enough already. The game must go on. Wraith pulled her legs to herself and made a half-hearted move to stand. "I need to get to the next ring. Find a place to camp out."

Wattson squeezed her hand, not willing to let go. Wraith was forced to remain seated. The girl's head was still hung as she spoke. "Please, Renee. You won’t send me away again?"

There it was again. Her name. She almost wanted to be able to let Wattson use it. But each time a "Renee" hit her ears, Wraith's heart ached. It was just a reminder of the life she lost and would never regain. Her entire identity had been swallowed up in the void, where every trace of the person she once was became fragmented and flushed away. That name was not her.

"My name is Wraith," she said to Wattson, her voice cool and monotone. The girl's azure gaze shot up and speared her with a watery look of betrayal. It stung, but she couldn't let this continue. Wraith's eyes lowered and her voice softened. "I'm sorry. I can't-"

A wave of voices crashed their way through her mind, derailing her train of thought and draping a veil of grey over her eyes. Wattson recognized the look that came over her, and despite the rejection, she remained loyal to a fault.

"What is it?" The girl asked Wraith, keeping her voice quiet.

_"Someone's coming."_

"There's... someone out there," Wraith reiterated. The torrent within her head was deafening, as if the voices had been clambering against a dam this entire time and had only now broken loose. It was hard to focus on just what they were trying to tell her. 

But Wattson didn't need to be told a second time. She was on her feet immediately, nodes in hand. Within seconds, she had a perimeter of fences expertly laid about their lair. Dread pooled within Wraith’s stomach as she snatched up her sniper. It could easily be Revenant. He had already cheated death once in this game. Who was to say he wouldn’t resurface again? If ARES wanted her dead, his hand would most reliably carry out the job.

Multiple footsteps were audible in the snow outside by now. With the electric fences in place, there was no doubt the oncomers knew where they were hiding. Wraith attempted to stand only to have her knee give way beneath her. Dread turned to rage. How dare her body fail her now! For months she had fought with the weight of the void dragging her by the hands into hell. And now that she was truly in danger, with her friend beside her nonetheless, she became as useful as a SERE-less titan. Again Wraith tried to rise to her feet, but her companion’s face was immediately at her ear, hand on her shoulder to keep her down. Her breath nearly stalled at the closeness.

"Let me handle this," the girl whispered as quietly as humanly possible. The wisp of her words tickled Wraith's ear.

"Natalie!" An approaching voice boomed from the outside that could have been none other than Bangalore. "Hey! That you in there?"

Adrenaline coursed through Wraith as she heard them close in. Though she was positive Bangalore would never team up with Revenant, she still couldn’t be trusted to help Wraith and Wattson in their predicament. Especially being an ex-IMC soldier. Who was to say the appearance of ARES didn’t give Bangalore a long sought after clue? It was quite likely she was more motivated to win this hunt than she was for any previous game. 

Wraith scooted herself into the wall. The fence might be able to keep Bangalore and the others out, but there was nowhere to hide from them peeking through the entrances. She looked down at her void gauntlet. She would have to conceal herself for as long as possible - for Wattson's sake. Clenching her fist, Wraith successfully pulled herself into the phase world. There she saw shadows of her alternate selves in similar situations, facing both doors of the Epicenter's pit. Some were armed and ready. Others prostrate and hopeless. She shuddered to think of how easily she could have died alone here in the dark. 

Wattson, meanwhile, was huddled against the pillar at the center of the room with Peacekeeper drawn. 

"Nat?" Bangalore called again. 

"Keep moving, s'il vous plaît."

"Wha's wrong?" Lifeline's voice from behind. "You all right in there? Kinda hard to miss the bloodstain out here."

Wattson glanced over her shoulder, keeping herself low to the ground. She saw Lifeline there, peering around the opposite doorframe. Her weapon was out but not at the ready. 

"I'm fine," she responded. "Got caught in a fight between Revenant and Wraith and had to retreat."

"Wattson's here?" An exclamation from the third squadmember, Pathfinder, filing in beside Bangalore. "And she's seen Wraith?!"

"Yes, I'm here," her words were hurried. She hadn't failed to notice Wraith had slipped into the void, and knew such an act could not be sustained for long. She had to dismiss this squad quickly. "Revenant's down and out, but I think Wraith went south into the city."

"Heh, alright. Come with us, Natalie." Bangalore offered. "Can't lose with all four of us."

"You three go on ahead. I can't- I'm sitting this one out." 

"Ring's closing in 45. C'mon already."

"I'm not moving!" Wattson called out more forcefully. Anxiety fluttered about within her. Wraith was bound to reappear any second. How was she holding out this long?

"Le's go." Lifeline finally said. "We ain't got time to convince her."

Bangalore sighed, "Fine then. We're going. Oscar Mike!"

The three scurried off, with Pathfinder yelling back, "Don't make us kill you later, friend!"

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Wattson's mouth, but her countenance was shortly overtaken by concern as she looked around.

"Renee?" She desperately tried to keep her voice below a whisper. "Re- ...Wraith?"

They only had a few trace moments left to get moving. As soon as the footsteps outside were out of earshot, Wattson collected the fence nodes and searched frantically for any sign of her companion. They needed to be ready to move. 

_"The coast is clear."_

Finally. Wraith couldn't hold out a second longer. A quick flash, and she was released from the cold blue void. 

The other girl was at her side instantly. “Oh bien… are you alright?”

Fire had ignited within Wraith, rendering her body once again useless. There was a potent reason she couldn't stay in the void too long. The feeling of cut circulation permeated her - similar but worse than the sensation of a sleeping limb. When kept in the void too long, pins and needles became knives and razors, slicing and dicing through her skin. 

Pain she didn't fear, but anything detrimental to her performance? That she tried to avoid. 

There had been no other option but to risk it in this situation. Wraith crawled to the railing at the center of the room, gritting her teeth against the razing that carved throughout her body. Twice she attempted to pull herself to her feet. Twice she failed. 

"Dammit-"

"Let me help..." Wattson mumbled, hooking a hand under her arm. Wraith hissed as her touch escalated the razor-sharp sensation; the girl in turn jerked her hands away. "Pardon! I-

"Sorry. I'm okay. I'll make it." Her voice was hard and short. Steeling herself, Wraith dragged herself up one more time and finally managed to stand. She let out a breath. 

"Attention!" The announcer. "Ring movement in progress."

"Time to go," said Wattson quietly. "Are you sure you can move?"

"I'm fine!" Wraith snapped. Though the most serious of her injuries were healed, pain continued to wrack her body in the most aggravating manner. She moved unsteadily towards the doorway, limping harshly on her braced knee. Wraith paused as her hand took hold of the doorjamb. A hesitant glance over her shoulder showed a dejected looking Wattson remaining where she was. The girl's face was hidden as she stared down at her hands folded together in front of her. 

Wraith's heart sank at the sight. She was pushing her away. Perhaps the voices from earlier in Skyhook were right. Wraith wouldn't blame Wattson at all if she decided to stop trying to protect her. The young woman had saved her life after all, and what had Wraith done in return?

The screeching of steel brakes sounded from over the ridge to the north. Instinctively, Wattson raised her eyes at the noise and caught the other staring at her. Wraith forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. 

"I'm sorry," she said softly. She wracked her brain for some explanation she could give the other, but there was no excuse. She didn't deserve any further help. The only thing she could give was a quiet, genuine, "Thank you."

The girl tilted her head as kindness enveloped her face. "De rien. Want to catch that train?"

The question was hurried, and understandably so. The ring was upon them, approaching steadily inwards from the Survey Camp. There was more to say. A proper apology. A more substantial thank you. But for now, there was only time to escape.

And so, all Wraith had to say was, "You read my mind."


	2. Pyrrhic

**Pyrrhic**

  
The Epicenter had become a bowl of quicksand. Never before had the climb out of the snowy pit been such an ordeal for Wraith. Forcing her body to move, running through the pain - in theory it was no problem. She had worked through pain before plenty of times. But now her feet continued to fail her. Under unsteady steps, the snow gave way; and where the snow gave way, her sluggish limbs were unable to keep up.

It was the strong hands gripping her arms that anchored her. With Wattson at her side, holding her secure, she managed the grueling, fast-paced climb over the ridge and out of the snow.

Wraith's overexposure to the void had still yet to fully subside. The knives and razors that had ravenously engulfed her before were now dwindling into needles sliding about underneath her skin. At any form of contact, they splintered out into fractaline waves across her body. 

By the time the two women had crested the northeastern Epicenter ridge, her arms were slithering with the sensation, thanks to Wattson's hold on her. But there was no sense in complaining. The girl was only trying to help - and by God she did. With the ring closing in just behind them, there had been no time to make the climb alone. Wraith counted herself lucky. She had given her companion every reason to leave her to the ring, and yet Wattson remained with her.

It was downhill from here. Nearby lay the factory at the bottom, as well as the train sitting idle. A screaming chime resounded from the station. The train would be soon resuming its course. 

"Do you think we'll make it?" Wattson asked.

Wraith glanced sideways at her. What was once fiery agony was exponentially dissipating into a dull bruise. She stepped to the side, gently pulling herself from Wattson’s hands. There it was again: the girl’s bottom lip barely jutting out in a half-suppressed pout. Very distracting, and Wraith would be lying if she said she weren’t touched by the concern in that face. But in the wake of the Scavenger Hunt, she couldn’t let herself be such a liability to her teammate. Wraith was regaining confidence in her own strength and was ready to show it. She broke into a quick sprint, albeit a labored one due to the remaining limp in her wounded leg. A little speed was all she needed. Wraith promptly flung herself into a rutted pathway and glided down the hillside. It was rough going, and she couldn't hide the grimace at how her legs inflamed from the contact. 

The two had angled their path through the small development just east of the Refinery, hoping to catch the train before it reached top speed. Wraith ended her slide with an unceremonious crash into a stack of metal boxes, but she remained standing undeterred. Wattson flew by her with hardly a loss in momentum, though not without a concerned eye making sure Wraith was able to keep up the pace. 

No problem there. Weaving between buildings, vaulting over crates, the two were right on track to catch that train. Wraith had just scooped up a fresh body shield module when a sudden warning burst through her head. 

_“They may have seen you.”_

Her steps faltered as she flung her gaze about in attempt to spot their hidden enemy. Wattson outpaced her, running ahead around the last corner that separated them from the train. 

Wraith reached out a hand after her. "Wai-"

She would be interrupted by a blast of gunfire that carved through the air in front of them as Wattson stepped out of cover. The girl skidded to a stop and ducked low, letting out a squeal of surprise at the unexpected outburst. Wraith rounded the corner with sniper drawn, ready to open fire on whomever dared attack her teammate. 

It was a squad of three that had beaten them to the train. And all three stood at the edge, their well-kitted weapons waiting for Wraith to show her face. 

Only Wattson was faster. She dexterously spun and dove directly into Wraith, shoving her to the ground behind a nearby vehicle as the offending squad let their weapons free. 

This wasn't good. 

"I'm sorry," Wattson mourned as she sat up, still perched upon Wraith. "It's Anita and the others. I guess I wasn't convincing when I told them about you going south."

Wraith gawked at the girl above her, and couldn't even work out a response before the sound of a harpoon struck Wattson from behind. Her face twisted with a grimace before her eyes sprung wide open in denial. Wattson was violently yanked backward, the force powerful enough for her to lose her grip on her weapon.

"Natalie!" Wraith yelled after her without even thinking. Pathfinder's grapple. The moving train had given him the angle to snag her up, and now Wattson was airborne as he retracted her to himself. 

Fire burned within Wraith's eyes. She strode forward, scooping up and stowing Wattson's shotgun before retraining her sniper upon the train. The others were again waiting for her. Wattson was just bait now, Pathfinder having dragged her into cover. This was bait she had no choice but to take. Bangalore and Lifeline were lined up in plain sight. Two trigger pulls, two hits, and the squad quickly scrambled out of sight. It was now or never. Fists clenched, Wraith tore a rift into space. It was the only way now to gain the speed needed to catch up. 

The world and the ring's closed edge fell away behind her as she raced forward to the accelerating train, leaping high and just barely catching the caboose as her gauntlet's energy was spent. Arc star in hand, Wraith moved forward stealthily, waiting for any trap the others may have set for her. Her milky white eyes churned with darkened intent. 

The overcomm blared the next announcement. “Round 3. Beginning ring countdown.”

Wraith was deaf to the voice. Her focus was fully captured by her enemies bustling two cars ahead. One arc star would be all she needed, the rest an easy cleanup during the chaos induced. 

Wraith took her shot, slinging the grenade in a tight arc over the cars that separated her from the others. Her aim was true, and yet, her star was intercepted by a bolt of light. 

No...

They were _using_ Wattson.

Rage melted away any further hesitation. She cocked the lever on Wattson's Peacekeeper and bolted forward to engage. The next traincar was covered, as opposed to the flatbed caboose. Easy place for an enemy ambush. In that moment, Wraith couldn’t care less. She charged through the door, ready to meet this squad face to face. As her feet crossed the threshold, both Bangalore and Lifeline stepped into view on opposite sides of the console that stood in the center of the car.

“Hey there, pilot,” called Bangalore, lifting her short-ranged DMR. On cue, Lifeline trained her SMG upon Wraith as well.

 _“Move!”_ The Others screeched at her, and Wraith didn’t hesitate. She ducked low as she let a shot from the Peacekeeper fly, aimed at Lifeline. It was the SMG she was most concerned about. Wraith wasn’t too keen on being torn into like prowler fodder. Her shot was on target, but Bangalore immediately retaliated. A bullet from the sniper screamed into her shoulder, shoving her away. Wraith grunted as she stumbled back through the threshold and into the open from whence she came. Recovering quickly, she sent one more blast from the shotgun before ducking behind the wall next to the doorway. She wouldn’t last long in such a mismatched duel of heavy hitters. 

She heard the footfalls of her attackers as they pressed upon her position. Wraith latched onto a nearby ladder, clambering up onto the roof all while pulling the pin of a frag with her teeth. Just as she rolled onto the top of the traincar, she let the grenade drop to the doorway beneath her. Bangalore strode through the same instant.

“Watc-” Lifeline’s voice was cut off as the grenade combusted. Peering over the edge of the roof, Wraith saw the impact of the blast send Bangalore headlong into a metal post on the flatbed caboose. A hollow ping like a musical gong sounded when her head made contact, and Wraith was certain her lights were out.

Pathfinder's muffled, rather distant voice filtered through on the wind. "I told you friend. We didn't want you to make us kill you!"

No doubt that was directed at Wattson. Twisting about, Wraith scanned the traincars ahead for any sign of her friend, but Pathfinder must have taken her further into the next covered section, two cars up. Wattson’s pylon hummed a lonely song where it stood in the open. No further time to wait; she had to return to her companion.

_“Others are coming.”_

Heeding the voice, Wraith ducked low and checked behind her to see Lifeline running out to an unconscious Bangalore. With the covered car now unoccupied, Wraith slid off the roof and inside. Whomever these voices were referring to, it was best not to remain exposed as they arrived. 

Lifeline didn’t have such a provincial warning. 

"Vamonos Che!!!"

"HEY!"

The sound of a collision filtered through the traincar. And then, Lifeline's bellowing voice echoed as she fell off the train.

"Silva, ya dumb bastard!!"

Wraith smirked. Unwittingly saved by a third party. Further gunshots told her the two were dueling it out, having been left behind. 

The train itself then came alive. More fighters had dropped upon the vehicle just as it entered the tunnel that sat between the fragmented city and its Overlook. Wraith spared a glance through the doorway and saw most of the fighters on the cars ahead were battling amongst themselves. 

She took a slow breath through the nose before letting it seep out through her teeth. Chaos was just the cloak she needed to retrieve Wattson and escape. Plugging her shield module into a scavenged battery cell, Wraith gave her energy barrier a short charge while stepping into the open. Her gaze darkened as she stalked towards the next traincar where she assumed Wattson and Pathfinder to be.

 _“Go without her. She's better off.”_ One of the Others broke the silence within her head. 

A pained grumble rattled in her throat as that thought lanced directly into her heart. Her steps slowed with hesitation. Her alternate had a strong point. Wattson had already endangered herself far too much already. And what had Wraith done in return? What had she done to even deserve such help in the first place-?

Someone pulled the locomotive brakes. The screeching of steel grated along the walls of the tunnel as the train slowed. Gunfire and explosions and yelling from all participants clamored throughout the rocky chamber to join the din. No doubt the remaining roster of the Scavenger Hunt was present. Wraith needed to leave.

Up ahead, she saw the zipline approaching that led through the manhole out of the tunnel. The train had yet to fully stop. This was her safest window. Wraith clambered up onto the roof of the traincar, keeping herself low to avoid detection until the zipline came within reach. 

_“Shooters. Get ready.”_

Wraith held her breath. For an eternal moment, she would be incredibly vulnerable upon the zipline. 

The wave of a familiar sonar hit her from the direction of the skirmish. Wraith's heart fell. Bloodhound. Another contestant must have found their banner and recalled them as an ally into the games. And Wraith knew the hunter would not spare any mercy for Wattson.

She shouldn’t get the girl any more involved. Wraith repeated this to herself mentally, over and over again. Her inner monologue was, for once, one with her alternate selves while they all begged her to leave. As Revenant and Bloodhound so proved, the other fighters were still safe from a true death. Could she take the chance of robbing Wattson of that luxury?

The zipline arrived. Clamping down on the rope, she let her thrusters rocket her upwards. 

But then, from her new vantage, she spotted a flash of blond hair below. 

Her friend was there, down and unarmed, dragging herself away from a recharging Pathfinder. She didn't look good. Her eyes were wide and frantic; her scar stood out angrily against pale skin that was whiter than Wraith had ever seen. As the MRVN tossed aside an empty battery, he retrieved his Havoc and trained it on Wattson. She needed help.

Reason and the voices may have told Wraith to save herself, but her hands let go of the rope regardless. Her jump kit propelled her forward off the zipline in a perfect arc that dropped her directly on Pathfinder's head. Her kunai was out, and Wraith didn't hesitate to stick it through the fabric that protected the robot's neck. 

"Wraith?!" Pathfinder chirped. His screen lit up with an excitable exclamation point that shortly turned into a red alarm as the woman dug her knife deeper into his neck. "Wraith!"

His voice escalated into a train-wide broadcast. 

"Wraith's here! Wraith's here!!!"

"Shut up!" She growled at him as her weapon finally found purchase on a vital wire. Pathfinder's systems sputtered and glitched from the damage. 

It was the shotgun burst fire from an approaching enemy that would put Pathfinder fully to rest. Wraith grunted as the weight of the heavy frame crumbled upon her small capable body. Heavy footsteps where approaching from the direction the shotgun blast came from. Wraith let herself slide to the ground, bringing the dead robot with her - though keeping him propped up in a sitting position. For now he would be her non-meat shield, his broad torso alone being enough to conceal her. Wraith glanced behind her to check for Wattson, but it seemed the girl had already dragged herself back into the next safe traincar. 

The footsteps were close, accented by the rattling of telltale canisters. Caustic. Wraith waited until she could _feel_ the vibrations of his feet falling before launching herself up from cover. She landed a full shot from the Peacekeeper, but her eyes flashed as she saw the others beyond him fighting their way closer. Caustic retreated immediately, and Wraith took her chance to slip away as well. The hissing of inflatable gas traps filtered their way to her. She hadn’t the time to pursue and finish him off, not to mention she had no shells in reserve for the shotgun. Best to let the other fighters thin their own numbers out. 

In the next traincar, Wraith hurriedly searched for any sign of her former teammate. She whispered in the dim light, "Wattson?"

_“Behind you.”_

The voice spoke just as Wraith's ears picked up on the sound of buzzing static. She spun to see Wattson huddled in a corner, having just laid down a pair of fence nodes to barricade the traincar entry after Wraith. She was at the girl’s side with a dash.

“You alright?”

Wattson answered with a question of her own as she peered up with hurt eyes. “Why would you-”

She was cut off by an explosion from a stray grenade blasting through the doorway. A small “eep!” escaped Wattson as her hands clamped over her ears, bowing over to hide from the noise. Wraith knelt close by. She vaguely understood that reaction, from prior experience fighting alongside her. Ghosting her fingers along Wattson's shoulder, she pinched a tiny portion of the fabric of the jacket and gave the slightest tug. Wraith forced her voice to remain calm and cool. “Move now, talk later.”

“Mhm..” Wattson latched onto Wraith’s arms with trembling fingers and pulled herself up. Pressing the Peacekeeper into the girl’s hands, she gave her best attempt at a reassuring smile. Wraith knew it wasn’t convincing. The shadow of battle still loomed over them. They scrambled away from the skirmish and towards their ever-closing window of opportunity: the zipline dangling above the caboose of the fully-stopped train.

“Overlook,” mumbled Wraith after a quick glance at her banner map. They were being herded towards the world’s edge. 

“Oui.”

Wattson’s behavior had her worried. Wraith paused to glance over her shoulder as they reached the zipline, but her companion urged her onward. 

“You first. Go. Go!”

_“They’ll be watching you.”_

With ignited thermite in one hand, Wraith grabbed the rope with the other. Wattson followed immediately, shotgun drawn. 

Below they could see the remaining fighters scurrying across the train towards the zipline with weapons free. Wraith dropped her grenade upon them, hoping to stoke the chaos enough to keep them at bay. 

_“She’s aiming right at you!”_

She? Wraith’s eyes snapped to Wattson directly beneath her, where she found herself staring down Peacekeeper’s glowing barrel. Panic planted its heavy foot in her chest and shoved the breath right out of her. Wattson spoke, her unsteady voice was barely audible over the flurry of bullets and grenades around them, but the words upon her lips were clear. 

“Trust me.”

As they ascended into the manhole, Wattson pulled the trigger. The shotgun bore into the wall of the pipeline, sending a shower of rubble down into the tunnel. Wraith kicked her legs up in alarm as another shot was fired, though deliberately aimed to miss. Wattson's face was spread in a desperate grimace, but her countenance showed no ill-intent in return to Wraith’s white-eyed stare. 

Still, she leaped from the rope as she reached the top, sliding away from the opening as Wattson climbed out. Slowing to a stop, with her back against a nearby crate, Wraith watched warily as the girl constructed a criss-cross of fencing over the hole. Trust her, she said. Trust wasn't an easy concept to Wraith, even in the face of someone as reliable as Wattson. She took a deep breath to force herself to relax. 

“I’m sorry about that," Wattson was saying. Her face was still pale, and still sad. “I was trying to trick the others into thinking I might eliminate you. They have already slowed their attack.”

Wraith furrowed her eyebrows as the other pensively observed the fences. 

“I should warn you… Do not cross the circuit. No telling what may happen.”

Wattson turned to her while chambering the shotgun with a fresh mag. Her concern made sense, especially in recalling how Revenant's silencer had ensnared Wraith before. She wondered just how potent the more weaponized of the other contestants' abilities could possibly be. Caustic's in particular she shuddered to think about. That noxious gas was capable of incapacitating even fully mechanized beings. Without the protection of the games, stumbling into a trap of his would be about as healthy as cutting out her lungs. 

Someone was approaching, but not from the tunnel below. Both women froze as the sound of nearby hydraulics wisped through the air. And then:

"Hola! Watts, hold your fire! Wait for me!!"

Octane's screaming voice was catapulted onto the scene. Metal legs scraped along the concrete as he landed, before leaping again into the air next to a cringing Wattson. His revolver was already aimed directly at Wraith.

"You really going for the solo win there, amiga?!" He barked sideways at Wattson. "C'mon, I thought you were a little more generous than that!"

Wraith snarled as her fingers wrapped around her Triple Take, but in one stride, Wattson was upon her. There was no room to back away as the girl smoothly drove her knee into the sniper. The weapon was effectively pinned across Wraith's chest as Wattson pressed her against the crate with the entirety of her body weight. Held down by one knee, Wraith knew she could fight back - Wattson was a tough opponent physically but certainly not out of her league. But the way the girl held the warm barrel of the Peacekeeper under her chin discouraged her from making any further movements. Her breathing slowed to a stop. 

The situation was delicate. And both women knew it. If allowed, Octane would gladly pierce Wraith’s skull with that Wingman. She hadn't the energy to spare in her body shield to absorb such a shot. Wattson’s face was heavy with sorrow while she used Wraith’s life as a bargaining chip to stay his hand. But she saw how the girl subtly shifted to keep her own body between Octane and Wraith. An electric twinge raced through her chest. Her teammate, once again, kept her death at bay. 

"Whoa, whoa!" Octane interjected, holding up his pistol in surrender. "Hey there Wattsy, you sure you won't reconsider? I mean, I took Che outta the race, right? Gotta owe me something for that!"

"Sorry, Octavio."

The young man hung his head, and Wraith leaped at the opportunity while his eyes and weapon were not upon her. Lifting her hand from the sniper against her chest, Wraith reached through realities and dragged herself into a phase. This was their chance. As Wraith fell away beneath her, Wattson spun a full one-eighty and blasted Octane directly in the chest with her shotgun. 

His lightweight body was flung several paces backwards from the impact, his raspy voice yelling all the while. "Qué sucede! Why me?!"

The void ravaged Wraith upon her return to the phase world. Down to the nerve it ate and clawed at her as if in retribution for her showing her face in the dimension where she didn’t belong. But she had no intention of staying; she merely followed Octane’s trail from where he had been hit by the Peacekeeper.

Wait. That was new. 

She could almost see them. Trace silhouettes of Wattson and Octane, moving with more life in them than the ghosts of the Others spectating. Wraith was fascinated, but the situation at hand required her attention. She bolted forward to Octane’s flailing body, releasing her grip on the void and leaping into the air as she rematerialized. Wraith struck him in the chest with her boot, launching him into the electrified embrace of the fences that covered the manhole.

If only he wasn't already hopelessly addicted to adrenaline. Octane managed to catch his own fall like a spider: splayed spread-eagle across the opening. Light crackled across his body with an excited energy. 

"Ohh ho ho man, you two. BH warned me that Watts was bein' sneaky. They shoulda said something about you teaming up. This ain't fair."

Wraith skulked towards him as agony wracked her body. "This entire game’s unfair."

She slung an activated arc star into his chest, forcing him to release his grip and tumble down the manhole. Screams and yells followed the next explosion as Octane himself was a live grenade dropped down upon the resuming train. 

"Warning! Ring movement in progress." The announcement bore down upon them, giving the two no time to catch their breath. Safety wasn't far, but they still needed to find proper shelter.

Starving pain continued to eat away at Wraith's fortitude. The hooks of the void hung from her limbs with the weight of the world, but - for better or worse - she was familiar enough with it to press through. At least she knew this feeling would subside.

"Let's go," Wraith said as she turned towards the Overlook, subconsciously holding her hand out in Wattson's direction. She hadn't even spared a look at her companion, though within seconds she'll have wished she did. Weak fingers folded into her sleeve, and then a heavy hand upon the same shoulder. Before she could react to that initial touch, Wattson's entire weight fell upon her as the girl collapsed into her side. Despite the inflammation that rumbled through her body at the touch, Wraith still grabbed her with lightning reflexes and gently let her sink to the ground.

“What’s wrong…?”

Her words caught in her throat as she gazed into Wattson's face. Her skin was near porcelain white, with the scar drawing across her cheek like kintsugi. Her brow was furrowed in pain - a darkened stormcloud hovering over lidded, dull eyes. Fear more potent than that of her near-death experience flooded Wraith's lungs at seeing her friend like so. Any trace of agony was expelled from her mind as Wattson keeled over, her head supported by Wraith's arm. 

"Watts- Hey!" Wraith nudged her as Wattson's face fell into the crook of her elbow. "Natalie!" 

A fleeting spark glinted in those blue eyes when they drifted up to look at her, but Wattson gave no further response. Wraith ran her gaze over the limp body in her arms, searching. 

She spotted a patch of red at the small of her back, initially hidden by the puffy jacket. Her breathing quickened.

_“Move.”_

The approaching ring combined forces with the voices to drum up a thunderous roar around her. Though her heart ached to tend to the wounded girl in her arms, it would have to wait. Twisting about, she pulled Wattson’s arm over her shoulder with one hand, then hooked the other under her leg. Wraith used the leverage to hoist the girl onto her back. Such a movement jarred a small whimper from both women in response to their respective pain.

“Just hang on,” Wraith mumbled to Wattson as she hastened on her way to the Overlook development.

The girl wrapped her arms around Wraith’s shoulders to hold herself up. She replied weakly, "Je vais bien."

At least she was conscious enough to speak. What if's began to swarm Wraith's mind as she scanned her surroundings, but none filled her with more dread than the notion that perhaps Wattson had already lost the Games' protection. She needed time and silence to treat her wounded teammate. The buildings that dotted the landscape would be too obvious; they needed to hide out farther away from the beaten path. Wraith recalled the small alcove behind the Overlook silos. With any luck, they would find a stash of helpful supplies back there as well.

She staggered onward with Wattson upon her back. Normally, such an added weight would have been no problem. Yet the continued strenuous activity began to wear down on her previously wounded leg, not to mention her latest stunt in the void was testing her endurance to the max. Wattson's potent concoction hadn't been enough to fully expel the pain from her injuries, and now it was being amplified across her body. Jostled about by Wraith's increasing limp, Wattson started to squirm.

"Wraith, I'm alright." 

"I got you, don't worry."

"No..." Wattson struggled to let herself down. "I can walk, really."

"You can't even stand," Wraith retorted. They had almost reached the silos. Just a little further. "Let me take care of you, this time."

The girl groaned her protest, but she had little case for an argument - seeing how heavily she continued to lay upon Wraith. 

The two had left the enclosed ring behind them, and after a few more moments they finally reached the very edge of the world. 

"Round 4. Beginning ring countdown."

Wraith's chest felt tight and her breathing shallowed as she rounded the last corner onto the remote little walkway that traced the edge. A supply bin was there, which she promptly opened and scooped out the contents with a single movement. Ever so gently did she then lay Wattson onto her side within the cushioned compartment. Something akin to claustrophobia seized Wraith as she checked her banner and laid out her supplies. There was too little time. Too little help. Too little _space_.

Wattson stirred where she lay. A small grunt escaped her lips as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Wraith gripped her shoulder in protest.

“Hold up, don’t strain yourself.”

With speed that rivaled her own, Wattson snatched up her extended arm with one hand and brandished a loaded syringe with the other. At the glint of the needle-barreled injector, Wraith’s vision flashed with the memory of the scalpel.

_“Watch out!”_

Her spectating alternate selves must have experienced the same flashback. Wattson’s lightless gaze helped none. Wrenching her arm out of the other’s grasp, Wraith flung herself away from the offending needle.

_“Get away!”_

They continued to chatter their fears within her mind, despite her knowing there was no true threat in her companion. Wraith stumbled over her own feet, resulting in her tripping backwards and smashing her spine against the nearby concrete riser. Her whitened eyes remained glued upon Wattson’s.

There she saw the girl hang her head and drive the syringe into her own thigh. Wraith watched her body tense up as the loader hissed to life, injecting its potent medication into her system. Her face remained low even as she finished and discharged the empty syringe. 

“I’m sorry,” whispered Wattson.

Wraith’s brow furrowed. The Others had quieted enough for her eyes to clear, and slowly, she staggered to her feet.

The girl continued, “I was just feeling faint for a moment. Too much noise. I did not mean to worry you so.”

“You were hurt.” Wraith’s voice had fallen so low it nearly rattled as it left her throat. Wattson tilted her head at that tone, finally lifting her eyes to meet Wraith’s. They were no longer the same shining blues she was used to, but at least Wraith could see the light in them again. 

“I can tend to my own wounds.” Wattson stated plainly. “The game is still protecting me and all the others. Look.”

She hopped to her feet effortlessly, and twisted her torso back and forth in a casual stretch. 

“It no longer hurts. Ça va aller.”

Wraith's face lowered, her gaze falling away to the billowing fog that surrounded the plateau of the World's Edge. Wattson stepped forward and took her hands. Static washed up her arms from the touch, but no longer painful like it was moments before.

“I’ll be alright, Wraith, and so will the others. It’s not our lives that are at risk. So please, don’t risk yourself for me, for anyone. You promised me you wouldn’t die, oui?”

A nod. She saw the logic in those words, but a habit was a habit. Ever since their first squad-up, she had never given a second thought to throwing herself in harm’s way for Wattson’s sake. It wouldn’t be an easy instinct to fight. The young woman’s fingers squeezed just a little tighter around her own before releasing one hand to gesture towards the Overlook battlement. 

“Let’s secure that building. We’ve got ten seconds.”

Hurriedly they gathered up their remaining supplies and scampered off towards the circular structure that hung over the edge. The closing of the fourth ring and beginning of Round Five herded the remaining squads even closer to their position, prompting another gunfight to break out amidst the nearby housing development. The two quietly took their positions - Wattson walling off the western entrances of the building while Wraith spied for stragglers from the battle. Both took an extra moment to ensure the protective energy of their body shields were at max, with Wattson donating most of her available batteries to her teammate. 

Sounded like quite a few of the other fighters had managed to survive this long. Wraith slipped silently towards the silos for a better view while Wattson continued to gather and sort through the main building's reserves. From her new vantage, just inside the looming wall of death, Wraith caught glimpses of many of the fighters' telltale traits as they battled it out in what must have been at least a 3-way fight. Caustic and Crypto had taken the sniper's nest and were bearing down on the central building. A noxious bomb followed by a well-timed EMP successfully flushed the squad hiding within.

It was Bloodhound who emerged, red-eyed and fuming, from the eastern garage entrance. The hunter must have been well equipped as they hurled grenade after grenade towards the tower, forcing the two perched to take cover.

A beam of green light suddenly pierced the sky to the immediate north. A dropship slipped into view, accompanied by heavy artillery rolling across the landscape towards Bloodhound and their attackers. 

The two squads fled to the south as the barrage ignited in a violent fiery wave. Bloodhound fought bravely against the odds, despite being at an obvious disadvantage. Though they managed to bear down upon Caustic and leave him crawling helpless amongst the fray, Crypto was there to follow up.

Tearing her eyes away, Wraith checked the direction of the dropship. Her heart fell when she saw not only Lifeline, but Octane as well, leaping back into the arena. A three-man squad with Bangalore undoubtedly at the helm. Not impossible odds, but certainly not in her favor. She looked again to where the others had been fighting and spotted Crypto tending to his wounded teammate. Bloodhound had been looted and disposed of.

"Wraith!" The voice of her teammate broke urgently through the comms. "Thirty seconds. S'il te plaît! Get over here into cover."

It irked her to always be hiding like this, but Wattson's pleading tone spoke volumes more than the words alone. Get cover. Play safe. Take no risks.

A blast of gunfire rained down upon Crypto and his still weakened teammate. Wraith's eyes narrowed. The re-dropped team was weak as well. She had a perfect view, and a perfect opportunity to thin the herd. She raised her sniper and let the sights charge. Now to wait.

Caustic had blindly tossed several of his pods out onto the playing field. It was all he could do. The duo had been pinned behind cover, short on supplies and defensive ordnance. He hadn't the strength to commit to the fight.

A well-placed frag meant that Crypto was once again alone, and wounded for good measure. The opposing team was crashing down upon him and he knew it. Peeking from behind a rock with Wingman in hand, he let fly several carefully placed shots. One caught Lifeline in the face; Wraith saw the energy around her shatter into nothing. Another clipped Octane in the leg, throwing his balance. 

Bangalore was undeterred. She zigged and zagged while her teammates scattered for protection. Sliding and diving, she closed in alarmingly fast on Crypto, so fast that he could land nary a shot upon her until she came within bullet-hose range. She ended him in an instant with merely half a mag.

"Wrai-"

"Fifteen seconds left," she cut Wattson off. "Just gimme half of that."

The trio had gathered around Crypto and Caustic's bodies to scavenge what they could. Wraith lined up her priorities and her sights. Lifeline first - she was the most vulnerable. A single trigger pull knocked the woman to the ground. A second put her out of commission.

The satisfaction of such a shot was nearly addicting, but Wraith had the sense to not be greedy. The fifth ring was closing.

Wraith leaped away from the edge of the ring, sliding down a stairway railing and using her momentum to fling herself to safety. The next circle was only a few meters from the silos anyway. 

What she didn't expect was her bad leg to buckle upon landing. Wraith gasped as she collapsed into a snowballing tumble down the stairs that led to the Overlook basement. She crashed in a heap at the bottom, frozen for an instant in disbelief at what just happened. The graceful ghost of the Apex Games, unable to land on her own two feet. Wraith slammed her fist to the ground. "Dammit."

"Round 6. Beginning ring countdown."

Wraith pulled herself up. Her journey to safety was much shorter than the other squad, but they were undoubtedly closing in fast. She scurried over to the barricaded basement door and placed her hand on the latch-

"Wait!" Wattson called through the comms as Wraith spotted her trotting down the stairwell. She crossed her own circuit, letting the connection break, and opened the door for Wraith. "Please be careful around the fences.”

Her face was somber as Wraith stepped in. Closing the door and backing away from the nodes, Wattson watched thoughtfully as the connection sparked back to life.

"The legends are protected from the true power of this current. It is not a happy fence. Do not cross it yourself.”

From her voice, Wraith suspected the girl had an inkling of how debilitating the circuit truly was. That was not something to think about now, for the sound of approaching footsteps filtered in from the outside.

"Here," said Wattson, pressing an auto-pistol into one of Wraith's hands and a small case of spare mags into the other. "This is it. Only one enemy team remaining, no?"

Wraith nodded, pressing the ammo back to her teammate. Though her assault rifle had long been lost, she had all the light rounds she needed. She watched Wattson pull the hammer back on an upgraded P2020. A grim outlook, but they had triumphed with less before. It was time. 

"Hola again, Wattsy!" Octane's muffled voice came from above. "Get this pylon outta here. Let us in!"

Both women scrambled up the stairs as they heard the unmistakable crunch of splintering glass. Octane was trying to break his way in. Upon reaching the top floor, Wraith's breathing quickened as she took in the dizzying matrix of fences Wattson had constructed. She had transformed the circular building into a glowing blue ring, with her pylon placed in front of the western door like a crown jewel. A broken door would by no means give Octane the right of entry. Wattson trained her shotgun on his figure as an effective discouragement. 

The speedster halted his intrusion, but proceeded to hop in place and fling his arms about in a mini fit. "Aw, c'mon! Mira, we took care of everyone else for ya. Let us in on the prize!"

"Non."

Bangalore's voice bellowed, "Didn't expect you to be this greedy, Nat."

She and Octane were both posted sentry at the front door. Wraith's eyes shifted sideways, towards the back exit. It was unbarred - possibly a provision in the event she needed an escape. Wraith internally thanked Wattson for the thought, but it was still a dangerous opening. No doubt Bangalore had spotted the gap in the fences through the window. 

The attacking squad was outside of safety, and Octane wasn't in the mood to wait any longer. He so proved by resuming his assault on the front door. Wraith and Wattson didn’t fail to notice the R-99s the two sported. They could easily flood the room with lead. 

With a crack and a creak, the door finally peeled open, and the offenders wasted no time in plunging the barrels of their weapons through the slim opening. Wraith and Wattson dove in opposite directions as the bullet-hoses began to spray. Under the concentrated fire, the pylon that once stood guard was shortly reduced to rubble. A quick switch of mags, and their attackers would infiltrate. Wraith couldn’t allow that. Snatching up a spare thermite from the ground, she tossed it at the doorway after ignition, successfully building another deterrent at the cost of the doors themselves. 

The way was open, and Octane was there with his speedy firearm. Wraith ducked away as he let the bullets fly. Some grazed off of her protective shield, but Wraith had no intention of testing her luck against the notorious SMG. Unloading a clip from her RE-45 did little to deter him - her aim being shaken by panic. A broken body shield meant the bullets would easily tear her to pieces. No buffer, no provision. A single hit in the wrong place could end her life in an instant. 

A shotgun sounded, followed by Octane’s offended cry. Wattson still had her back.

The fire paused as Octane slipped back outside to reload, and thanks to the quick respite, Wraith’s ears were able to pick up on the light patter of sneaking footsteps on the roof. Bangalore was moving towards the back. She weighed her options, looking down at the auto-pistol in her hand. Fat lot of help such a weapon would be against the R-99. Good in a hotzone, but not against a well-kitted veteran. She would have a better chance picking off Bangalore from behind as opposed to a head-on meeting. Sniper shot to the skull with an auto pistol followup. 

"Warning! Ring movement in progress."

The circle would partially cut off the western half of the building. That earlier suffocating feeling returned in full force. If these two didn’t kill her, the ring would undoubtedly boil her alive. They needed to end this, fast. Wraith bolted for the front door, all inhibitions forgotten.

Octane peeked his head into view at the sound of her approach. Wraith didn’t hesitate, didn’t intend on bothering with him. She held her breath and grasped the air in front of her, bending the dimensions to her will. Her ethereal form passed through Octane and continued on, drifting up the side of the building to the roof. She prayed against hope that she had been fast enough. 

Sliding back into the real, Triple Take in hand, Wraith found herself staring down the barrel of Bangalore’s DMR only two meters away. They were ready for each other. Each fired simultaneously; each stunned from their respective impacts. Wraith was nearly flung on her back, thanks in part to the detrimental hold the void had on her body. Still, she managed to keep her charged sights upon Bangalore’s head. The soldier did the same, having only reeled back two paces.

Both were at each other’s mercy. Wraith felt her scalp buzz and chill with a cold sweat as she stared into her opponent’s eyes. Bangalore pierced her with a familiar smirk that carried none of the true gravity of the situation. 

“Really thought you could sneak up on me, headcase? Go on. I dare ya.”

The two had been fierce rivals since Wraith’s very first match in the Apex Games. Always striving to better the other, there was never to be a moment of peace between them. Discovering Wraith’s past as an envied IMC pilot didn’t help much either. Whether she embraced such a past or not didn't matter; Bangalore’s campaign against her only strengthened. 

Wraith couldn’t move. One direct hit to the head would eliminate the woman before her, but her finger continued to sit rigid at the trigger. She could almost feel the eyes of her alternate selves watching, holding their collective breaths. As a host, she knew Bangalore’s speed was in her reaction time. The instant of Wraith's finger squeezing the trigger would be more than enough time for the other to respond in turn. She couldn’t fire with the knowledge that the veteran soldier had the same lethal shot on her. 

This stalemate couldn’t last forever. The ring had stilled; the timer for the final round had commenced. Wraith’s heart quaked with desperation. 

The last thing she expected was to see an airborne weapon twirling into view from the side. A Peacekeeper. 

The shotgun collided into the barrel of Bangalore’s Longbow, eliciting a bewildered “What the hell?!”

She had her chance. Wraith fired off a shot as she jumped to her feet, wincing at the spray of blood that erupted from Bangalore’s shoulder. Sprinting in an arc around her enemy, she made for the eastern side of the roof, within the confines the next circle. 

The soldier returned fire, yet her aim was unbalanced and erratic as a flurry of hopped-up pistol shots rained down on her position. Wattson roared onto the scene in a tempest, unloading a full-sized mag at the woman. Bangalore dropped a smoke bomb on the girl in hopes of buying herself time, and began firing blindly in Wraith’s direction. No matter. 

Wattson charged head first towards her as she reloaded, desperately trying to draw the SMG fire off her teammate. With a cry, she threw her entire body weight into a raging punch that Bangalore couldn’t even attempt to block with her focus split like so. The woman sprawled back from the blow to the face, and shot Wattson a dark glare.

“You really think she’s on your side, huh, Natalie?”

Wattson wordlessly hammered out her response in the form of pistol fire. Her last clip unloaded into Bangalore’s incapacitated body.

“New Kill Leader appointed.”

Wraith had been huddled at the edge of the building with her sniper, ready to assist, but seeing there was no need. She lowered her weapon as Wattson turned to face her. Finally, she was able to let herself breathe.

“Sorry I cut it so close,” the young woman said as she trotted across the rooftop. “I used the last of my shotgun ammo on Octavio.”

For an extended moment, Wraith couldn't talk. She could hardly breathe. The adrenaline of panic and desperation simmered throughout her veins with no remaining outlet. She felt Wattson's eyes upon her at her extended silence, and Wraith glanced down at her banner map to avoid making contact. She scowled. The arena timer was still counting down. A winner had yet to be truly decided. “What is this…”

“I knew it,” mumbled Wattson. “You won’t become the champion until I’m eliminated.”

She giggled at Wraith's sorrowful glance. 

“It’s alright! Vraiment. I told you not to worry about me.”

The girl reached for the barrel of Wraith’s Triple Take, and nonchalantly placed the nose of the gun under her own chin. 

A flash of alarm tore through Wraith’s head. She yanked the sniper out of her companion’s grasp, taking care to keep her hands away from the trigger. Perhaps she overcompensated in such a movement. Perhaps she should have glanced behind her as she stepped back from Wattson. Her foot fell through thin air, and Wraith toppled backward off the roof of the building and landed flat on her back upon the balcony. 

“Wraith, please.” Wattson called down to her, a hint of amusement in her eyes. Dammit! How many times could she fall on her ass in one match?

The blond slid smoothly off the roof and offered her a helping hand. “Thirty seconds until this ring closes. This match needs to end.”

Wraith stood only to slump in defeat. 

“If you won’t end it, then I will, yes?”

She looked up to see Wattson had pressed her P2020 to her temple. Her eyes were soft, her face calm. Wraith grimaced at the sight, wishing only to snatch that pistol out of her hand. But she knew, within all reason, that Wattson was in the right.

She lowered her head in acceptance, hands balling into fists. The defender before her took that as a cue. 

A hollow click followed. Wraith snapped her attention back to the P2020 to see the hammer locked on empty. Wattson smiled sheepishly. She stepped around Wraith to toss the sidearm over the edge, then turned and placed both hands upon the other's shoulders. 

Wraith shifted uneasily under the weight, unable to read the emotion behind those deep blue eyes.

"Trust me," Wattson said once more, her heavy hands squeezing Wraith's shoulders ever so slightly. She almost leaned into the touch, almost closed the gap. But then she found herself shoved away. Wattson sent her tumbling backwards through the open doorway behind her. One last time, she landed on her rear.

Metallic crackling began to build up before her, and she looked to see a fresh electric wall barring her way out. Wraith scrambled to her feet.

"Wait-"

"No time!" Wattson interrupted cheerily as she backed away to the edge.

_“Let her go.”_

"Natalie..."

"Warning! Ring movement in progress." The last circle would close at the Overlook door. 

"See you soon, Wraith," She was without hesitation. The game had gone on long enough. Wattson crossed her arms over her chest and let herself teeter over the brink, falling headlong down and out of the World's Edge.

Wraith was frozen in time. The roaring of the closing ring began to wrap its heated arms around her. And then it stopped.

"We have a winner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very difficult chapter to get through, and I may end up editing it over time with future updates.
> 
> For now I just wanna say thanks to everyone who's been reading so far and esp to those who've left super sweet comments??? They make my day


	3. Dismantlement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was gonna be at least twice as long as this... it just kept writing itself... it's that fun of a segment... but I decided against waiting another two weeks to post and broke it up into two parts. Enjoy (hopefully)
> 
> p.s. light dissociation warning

**Dismantlement**

  
The trip home was lonely and silent.

Or so she wished. 

She was never alone, and it was anything but quiet in the passenger ship. Hardly a single word was intelligible amongst the multitude that pervaded her mind. Wraith gripped her forehead, middle finger and thumb pressing against opposite temples like a vice. Her gauntleted hand was curled in a quaking claw in her lap. She could feel it slipping; she could feel the chill of negative space engulfing her. Such a phenomenon often followed particularly stressful battles that taxed her mental fortitude. Without the proper focus and control, the void could easily swallow her up into a nightmarish rift before regurgitating her like the foreign body she was.

Wraith's lips peeled back in a grimace as she battled the creeping sensation. Circulation was slowing in her left arm, warning her of the slippage. Tingling needles pricked at her fingertips, crawling downwards to the pads of her palm. She clenched the shaking hand into a fist, willing desperately for the sensation to dissipate. She just needed to think of something, anything else. But in letting her mind drift, an image of white snow came into view, struck through by a blood-red stain. 

She shook the vision out of her head. The pressure of her tightly packed fingers against her palm was registering in her mind through the numbness. With a huff, Wraith violently wrung both hands, focusing on how the blood seemed to slosh into the extremities. Her mind latched onto that feeling of forced circulation in her fingertips, using it as an anchor to keep her on this plane of existence. The ghostly cackling of the void gauntlet began to subside. 

Walking the breach between worlds might be a common enough practice for her within the games, but never before had she dared use it to the extent she had today. Wraith held her hands open before her, observing the tremor that she just couldn't seem to control. Balling her hands into fists only made her entire forearms shake; hugging her arms to herself merely caused her entire body to tremble. 

Even taking a deep breath only showed her how the shuddering had reached her core.

She overdid it. 

But it was unavoidable. Wraith recalled just how many times she had brushed shoulders with death within the Scavenger Hunt. And it was Wattson who was there to pull her back, each and every time. She saw the girl in her mind’s eye. Being in her arms at the Epicenter. Falling under her weight while she used herself as Wraith’s shield. Spotting the desperately thrown Peacekeeper. Shame wrapped its heavy arms around Wraith.

Even pushing her body past its limit hadn’t been enough to keep her friend from risking her own life to protect her. This would be the last time she'd take advantage of Wattson like so. There was no room for such weakness.

The Others must have seen how Wraith drew into herself. There she sat, huddled over with her arms tucked against her stomach, her body rocking back and forth. The grip of the void upon her was so powerful, her breath wisped out in cold fog while shimmering white light bled through the seams between tightly closed eyelids. Gradually, the voices began to synchronize. The dozens of conversations became one observation.

_"You overdid it."_

"I know," she growled under her breath. The adrenaline of the Scavenger Hunt was gone, leaving her spent. And now she had to face everyone alone. There was no way in hell she would let any of them see her like this. Wraith stuffed her shame and regret back into the dusty confines of her mind. 

The dropship in which she rode had begun to decelerate. They were approaching home base. 

Dragging herself to her feet, Wraith stood in the center of the empty passenger bay. Head lowered, eyes closed, her focus started with the trembling hands hanging at her sides. She inhaled slowly through the nose, one deep breath after the other helping to quell the quivers that skittered up and down her arms. Fingers splayed and clenched in a disciplined rhythm. Tension remained in her muscles - it never truly left - but between the regulated breathing and stretching, she managed to regain control of her body. After a moment, the blue threads of the void that danced from synapse to synapse withered and retreated to her gauntlet. Wraith's quieted eyes slid open as she brought her hand up to look at the offending piece of equipment. 

The crackling energy was still present, but successfully caged. She hummed in approval at the steadiness of her hand. She was ready.

Just in time too. The dropship was pulling into the bay. Silently she prayed the others would not be there to meet her.

The doors hissed open with a blast of hydraulics and pressurized air as the ship came to rest. When she exited through the mist, Wraith saw only a handful of the others approaching. The first one her eyes drew to was Mirage, and that primarily due to how heavily he had his arm draped across the shoulders of a young blond beside him. Her eyes narrowed as a surge of protectiveness welled up within her.

"C'mon, throw me a bone here!" He was saying, "Did she promise to share? Half-pot? Full-pot?!"

"Mirage-" Wraith had a reprimand loaded in the chamber, but then Wattson's eyes met hers and the safety clicked on. 

The man snapped to attention regardless, flinging his arm away from Wattson. "Oh hey! Champ's here! Congrats on bamboozling your way to the top."

Mirage punctuated those last words with a playful nudge at Wattson's elbow. The girl paid him no mind, though the same couldn't be said for Wraith.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't play dumb, headcase."

Her pale irises darkened as she shifted her gaze to Bangalore. She was met with a face of pure contempt. Beside the lady she saw Bloodhound, watching tentatively. Bangalore continued.

"You've got a lotta nerve, preying on some kid's emotions like that. Got no respect for the game at all, do ya?"

Anger ignited in Wraith's countenance at the insinuation. They thought she had tricked Wattson into throwing the game? She was ready to argue, but bit her tongue upon seeing the accusatory stares of the group. Doubt crept its way in, shaking her confidence in her own ability to convince them.

Wraith glanced over at Wattson. There was a hurt pout on her face, but it was directed at Bangalore. 

"'Fess up," the soldier barked with a demanding step forward. "What did you tell her to make her bail?"

"Anita, please." Wattson's voice. 

"Yeah chill, Bang," Mirage interjected. "I mean, a win's a win, right? Y'know how many times I've won sittin' down? A lot. A lot, a lot. Like I bet third wheels are out there feelin' like me. Or, I mean... the fifth wheels. Wait, how- Nevermind, you know how it goes."

With a grumble and roll of the eyes, Wraith attempted to push past the small gathering. All she wanted was the lonely peace and dusty quiet of her own room, but Bangalore's hand slapped down on her shoulder. Wraith’s lips pursed into a thin white line as the contact reawoke the pain simmering in her body. It felt as if her arm were being torn off at the shoulders.

"No running away from this one,” said Bangalore.

"Stop! S'il vous plaît," Wattson urged her. "The game malfunctioned. Wraith wasn’t protected. Wounding her could have been fatal!

A scoff came in return. "Ain't that convenient? She just didn't wanna miss out on that cash bonanza. Well," Bangalore turned again to Wraith. "There was more than money on the line for some of us. That never occur to you, huh?"

A thought sparked in Wraith's head. There was no way of knowing if the stakes were still at play here, outside the arena. It was quite possible they were now even more vulnerable, and all she could think about was that Wattson's safety remained top priority. Perhaps painting her savior as the victim was the ticket to keeping ARES off the girl's back. If protecting Wattson meant pushing her away, she wouldn't hesitate to do so. Wraith would worry about herself later. She slid out from under Bangalore's hand while facing her. 

"Fine, you want me to admit it?" She let a smirk pull the corner of her mouth. "Need some vindication after such an embarrassing loss?"

Bangalore's face unfurled with rage. Wraith's pale blue eyes narrowed in turn as she calmly continued.

"I saw an opportunity to better my odds and I took it. You didn't think I was gonna play nice in such an unfair game, did you?"

"Wraith," Wattson spoke with wavering words that matched her swimming blue eyes. "Don't do this..."

Even Bloodhound interjected, "There is no honor in victory wrought through such deception."

"Well," Wraith shifted her cool gaze to the hunter. She dared not meet Wattson's eyes. "I'm still the champion. That's good enough for me."

They shook their head. "A squad's strength lies in trust. Taking advantage of your félagi fighter like so does not bode well for your future battles. But, at least now I can sé her decisions."

She shrugged with a smug smile. Good. She had been worried of a possible grudge that Bloodhound might pay towards Wattson, but if she played her cards right, the girl would be safe from any suspicion.

Mirage shook his head, shifting uneasily where he stood. "Man, I thought we knew you. Didn't happen to get bodysnatched by... y'know, another, meaner Wraith? Did you?"

A huff. "No. There's a lot about me you don't know."

"Obviously," seethed Bangalore. 

Wraith wasn't interested in any further discussion. The group's animosity was focused on her and her alone, as according to plan. So long as Wattson remained outside the crosshairs, she was satisfied. Wraith strode along her way, brushing roughly between Bloodhound and Bangalore. Though easier to let these fighters believe what they wanted, Wattson's stunned silence gored her like Revenant's hand. Wraith didn't want her friend to believe in this act, but it was certainly safer this way.

Bangalore's previous clap on her shoulder had violently reinvigorated her pain. Her gait was rigid and unwavering, having steeled her nerves to prevent any evidence of her agony from leaking to the surface. She couldn't let the others see. The facade had been built, and now she would have to take extra caution to ensure it held. 

For now, her body screamed for rest. She steadily made her way to her dorm. No food, no celebratory drink with the others, if there even were any left who would be interested. She needed space after the stifling claustrophobia of the Scavenger Hunt. Her gaze was low, following the trails of the metalwork in the floor as she strolled along the final stretch to her room. 

_“Eyes up,”_ The voices barked in alarm. _“Above you.”_

Her eyes nearly rolled in disgust at the interruption before remembering there was only one person who would be hiding in the rafters. Knife was instantly in hand as Wraith jumped back and craned her head to look up. Revenant was there, casually spying from his perch directly above her dorm room door. Having been spotted, he gripped the crossbeam beneath his feet and let himself flip forward. Wraith watched him as he hung for a short moment before letting himself drop. The clash of his feet against the steel floor was accented by the unnerving movement of his inorganic joints. It filled the corridor with the sound of razors rutting against each other in passionate fervor. 

Wraith eyed him where he stood, but Revenant never showed his intentions through his stance. He seemed to merely be summing her up, assessing her mood and condition. 

A gurgle bubbled up from whatever the simulacrum had instead of a throat. “Why you always so surprised to see me? I would th-”

“What do you want?” Wraith demanded. She knew how he loved to mouth off, and she was absolutely not in the mood. 

“Just wanted to show you my disappointment, although that little social stunt you pulled in the hangar was certainly hilarious."

Her glare deepened, but he remained unperturbed. 

"Tricking your only friends won't help you any. The deal I was given is just too good to pass up. They told me if I could secure your fate, they would secure mine-”

Wraith's grip tightened on her kunai.

“...Only as long as I could make it look like an accident of the game. Put the knife down.”

She did not. Revenant gave a small chuckle.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. And for the time being, neither will ARES. Next time though, I would _greatly_ appreciate it if you would just die like you’re supposed to.”

“I’m not going to die for you,” Wraith spat.

“Ohh…” Revenant hummed as he stalked forward, prompting her to point her knife directly at him to keep him at bay. The simulacrum respected her boundary and arced around her as he sauntered down the other side of the corridor. “I understand. But I know of someone else on this ship you would gladly die for, heh. It's way too obvious you're trying to keep her in the clear. Maybe we can avoid such drastic measures if, say, you and I can reach an agreement?" 

Cold fingers seized Wraith’s heart and her stare darkened with maddening intent. She backed away from Revenant as he turned to walk off. Her room was right in front of her; she had been so close to some simple peace and quiet. But now rage had renewed within her. Revenant had poked his toe past a line she had no intention of letting him cross. 

“Hey Rev,” She called for his attention with a steady voice. The tower of metal turned his head to look back at her. Any coolness in her tone was betrayed by the fiery white-hot glower in her eyes. “If you dare threaten her again, I’ll see that you get a permanent vacation. Someplace quiet and cold. And completely empty. You’ll have all of eternity to yourself. No one to kill, and no one to end you. Sound fun?”

Revenant’s head turned up, causing his gold irises to shimmer with glee as he looked down upon her. “Such a shame they want you dead. You’d make a fantastic simulacrum.”

He resumed his departure, but not before calling back one more time.

“Consider me put in my place. No need to worry about that pretty little blonde. But you have until the next Scavenger Hunt, and then I will not fail again.”

Wraith stared him down until he was gone, and then hurriedly locked herself in her room. Back pressed against the cold door, she took a long, drawn out breath. With dismay, she felt the tremors retaking her body. Wraith slammed her fist against the door in exasperation, wincing as the movement triggered pain to flare out from the synapses. All she wanted now was to curl up in an isolated corner of her cold and dusty home, and give herself over to the anxiety that swarmed her mind. But the pain was a reminder for her to tend to herself. Agonizing over Revenant's threats would do no good if she allowed herself to be incapacitated by her own ailing body.

Trudging further into her dorm, Wraith fetched some water as she steeled herself for the next task at hand - removing her gear. In matches past, she had mildly overexerted herself on several occasions. The after effects were wildly unpleasant. Detaching the outer layers from her synapses had felt like scraping away festering scabs with a salty chisel. 

This was bound to be much, much worse. Wraith sat down in the middle of her rather empty living room and set to work. First to go was the scarf, along with all the other belts and buckles that kept her grounded.

Then came the pads on her shoulders. The metal attachments there were latched onto her implants like snap buttons through loopholes in the jacket and jumpsuit, and would have to be pried off with more than gentle force. Each time she tugged one away, fire slashed outward from the synapse and encircled her arms. Though it had never been a painless experience, this in particular was a novel feeling - the way the implants seemed to be tearing out of her body, bringing muscle and tissue with them.

When Wraith finally removed the last of the attachments, she dropped the shoulderpads in favor of clamping her hands over the sore implants. Shredding pain tore across her biceps and deltoids, and she prodded with her fingers to make sure everything was still intact. Though the skin certainly felt torn, there was no wetness of blood to indicate any physical damage. She hissed out several deep breaths as she waited for the agony to subside. 

Now for the gauntlet on her left wrist, from which one of the shoulderpads hung via a red wire that assisted the channeling of the void energy. The device clamped down obstinately on her arm, still shimmering with the power it drew from her. Wraith clenched her jaw as she unlatched it, and lifted it away about as easily as a rusty nail from flesh. She shook her hand to expel the grating sensation that was left behind while she stood to put away the gauntlet and it's accompanying components. Her gloves followed suit. They had their own little home - a nondescript box inside an uninteresting drawer. A place where she didn’t have to see or think about them until their next use.

Her eyes wandered as she readied herself for the next phase. When Wraith caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror, her attention was drawn to the frayed fabric at her midsection. Morbid curiosity took hold of her and for a moment, all else was forgotten. Most of her layers had been removed save for the jumpsuit and the bindings on her legs, but it was enough for her to spare a look at the remnant of her injury from the Epicenter. Wraith loosened the lacing on the suit and shrugged her shoulders free. 

Her torso was now left in her lowest layer - the heavy black tank top she wore next to her skin. She grimaced at the sight of her bare shoulders. The implants were ice cold to the touch, so much so that the bruises cropping up on the surrounding skin could be mistaken for frostbite. But then Wraith’s eyes drilled into the hole in the fabric of her shirt. With tentative fingers, she untucked the hem of the tank from beneath the suit, and slowly drew it up only high enough to see the new scar. Her eyelids fluttered and her gaze turned dull at the sight. 

It was an alarmingly large splotch that spread across her stomach, whiter than even her normal porcelain skin. Wraith’s bare finger drifted down to touch the marred surface. The scar tissue was thick; it’s texture was warped and unfamiliar beneath her touch. Wraith looked up to meet her own graying eyes and saw the fog that stroked her irises. 

_“You should have died out there.”_ The Others began to speak. Not malignant, but observant and... sad. _“Please bring her back. Wouldn’t be here without her.”_

_“Thank her.”_

The scar felt unreal. Just a white splatter on her belly in the shape of a comically drawn cartoon explosion. How close she had come to teetering off the tightrope between life and death. Wraith felt numbness overtake her. Limbs disconnected and fell away from her hollowing mind as she stared down the woman in the mirror. Reality became enshrouded in nothingness while an opaque veil glazed the eyes that gazed back. The woman standing there was as good as dead, lost to the fickle hands of the void, without a home and without an identity. No right to be alive. Undeserving of this dimension where the key to survival lay in the hands of another.

Those hands were Wattson's, and yet from the moment of salvation, the girl had been taken advantage of, again and again. Barking at her, brushing off her ever present aid thereafter. Then in the hangar... disowning Wattson in front of the other fighters was just more lemon in the wound. 

A knock on the door shattered her hypnotic reverie. Wraith’s hands snapped her shirt back down over her stomach out of instinct, though she knew the culprit could not enter through the locked door. She waited, breaking eye contact with herself in favor of studying the floor. Her vision was blurry; Wraith squeezed her eyelids shut against the dryness before attempting to refocus. Hopefully, her intruder would move on, whoever they may be. She still had the rest of her gear to remove, and even then, Wraith was never too keen on being around any of the others so exposed. All of them had yet to learn of the synapses being permanent implants in her body. 

Another rap on the door. Wraith heaved a silent sigh, but made no move to answer.

“Wraith?” Came a weak, muffled voice.

Her heart betrayed her with a violent flip in her chest. Wattson. How she wanted to respond, to inundate the girl with every apology her mind had conceived since the very start of the Scavenger Hunt. 

The next tap came lighter, but she spoke out loud enough for the waver in her voice to be clearly audible. “Bon sang- Wraith, if you’re in there, please say something!"

"Yeah I'm here," she caved. Wattson's tone was heavily laden with worry. Somehow. That part confused Wraith. After her open admittance of betrayal, Wattson was still concerned for her? Or did she read her voice wrong? Or perhaps, she hadn't convinced the girl of her guilt in the first place. 

She pulled the jumpsuit back on and laced it up, but remained where she stood. Wattson was silent for a long moment. It was easy to picture her there in the corridor outside, standing forlorn before Wraith's room. She could almost _feel_ the girl place her hands against the metal door.

"Let me in?"

The emotion in that voice was strong yet indiscernible - as demanding as it was begging. Wraith slowly made her way to the door, taking her time in ensuring the implants were properly concealed. She snatched up her scarf for good measure. Playing with the fabric as she wrapped it around her neck, her mind tore into itself deciding between allowing Wattson in or turning her away. It all depended on whether the girl was here to check on her, or to demand an explanation. Wraith couldn't tell which. She had little experience in reading her former squadmate in such a mood. 

Her eyes ghosted as the Others screamed at her to relent, if only for the opportunity to thank her, and apologize.

Wraith reached out slowly for the lock. Her hand hesitated once, twice, before finally flipping the deadbolt and unhooking the chains. Sliding back the latch, she dragged the door open.

No one was there. 

Her eyes widened as the emptiness of the hall sparked a lonely twinge in her chest. The hollow feeling engulfed her so completely, she almost felt like she was back at the labs as nothing more than a nameless test subject.

She had missed her chance, but maybe it was better this way. Wattson was better off. Wraith let her head droop forward as her hand fell limp from where it held the latch. The door began to swing closed, letting out a dismal squeak as it did so. Before it fully shut, light pattering filtered in from the corridor outside. Wraith didn't bother to lift her head until the noises ceased, and when she did, she saw a hooded blond head poking through the crack in her door. 

When their eyes met, Wraith's jaw dropped as if to speak, but no words formed on her tongue. She couldn't even hold that fleeting moment of contact, instead breaking away with a grimace. Seeing her speechless, Wattson slid through the door and let it close behind her.

The last thing Wraith expected was the question, "Are you okay?"

The girl strode forward without waiting for an answer, and clamped her hands down on top of Wraith’s shoulders at each side of her neck. Her body tensed up without her consent, but despite the desperate touch, Wattson’s hands did not aggravate in the same manner as Bangalore’s shortly before. Still, Wraith looked to the floor, giving only a sideways glance up at Wattson. 

“I saw Revenant coming from this direction,” her visitor spoke. A knot lodged itself in Wraith’s throat when she heard the tightness that choked up those words. Wattson's right hand drifted up to cradle Wraith’s head, turning it up to face her. “He didn’t- he didn’t do anything, did he?”

Her foggy mind struggled to process Wattson's demeanor. Wraith barely shook her head.

The girl's frame was so much smaller without all her battle gear, being dressed down in a simple oversized hoodie and leggings. But when she encircled her arms around Wraith and pulled her into a hug, she felt fully enveloped by her presence. Ever so gently did Wattson slide her hand to the back of Wraith’s neck and guide her head into her shoulder, as if they weren’t close enough already.

“I’m sorry,” Wattson mourned. “You could’ve… I almost failed you. I’m so sorry.”

Wraith didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to respond. Freeing her arms from where they were pinned between the two bodies, Wraith hesitantly splayed her hands up Wattson’s back. The girl tightened her embrace in turn. Her heart fluttered as it became more than obvious Wattson had seen through her façade in the hangar. Swallowing down the pit in her throat, Wraith managed to croak out a quiet, "Listen-"

But then she felt Wattson turn her face into Wraith's messy mop of hair, and press her lips to her head. A tingling buzz spiraled across her scalp from the contact, collecting at her spine and drizzling down her back. She leaned subconsciously into the touch.

So this was why she had gravitated towards Natalie, from the very beginning. The sincerity, the radiance, the _affection_. Concepts which had all been lost to Wraith. A yearning she had forgotten came rushing back to her as she was held. And now that she had reciprocated, she never wanted to let go.

It was Natalie who pushed herself back without warning, a crease in her brow as she studied Wraith's questioning countenance. A roughly scarred hand cupped her face. The other, smoother hand brushed against her forehead. 

"You're so cold..."

Cool blue eyes wavering, Wraith looked down at her bare hands and rubbed her fingers together. "That’s normal. Didn't even notice."

That was only partially a lie. Thanks to the void, her blood often ran cold. But today was an exception. A sprig of doubt grew within her as she remembered just how chilled she was on the trip home. Shivers, disorientation... not to mention the blueish skin around her freezing implants. Maybe she really was a bit too cold. 

Natalie's hands closed around hers, and then hurriedly rubbed them together when she felt the icy skin. "Wraith, this is not normal. Come. Sit."

She led Wraith with a firm grip, guiding her to the singular arm chair that sat in the middle of the living area. She didn't have the strength left to fight the young woman. Though lightweight and small in stature, Natalie was sturdy and firm in her posture. She was incredibly fit as well, thanks to the mess of gear she carried into battle. Each game was as strenuous for her as a 10-mile hike with full pack. And Natalie never tired out before a match's end.

Wraith couldn't boast such vitality, as her burden was much more deteriorating. Her fight was against constant pain and cold and insanity, and though it had forged her into a powerful fighter, she did not have the younger woman’s endurance. 

Aching weariness laced her bones, and Wraith collapsed stiffly into the chair. Her face was taut with pain as she favored her bad leg, but her thoughts were elsewhere as she pondered the severity of her condition. Her friend frowned at her. 

"Your leg, still?" Natalie pulled a nearby small endtable in front of the chair and sat before Wraith.

She eyed the girl, hesitant to respond. Wraith had let down her guard in front of her, and all of a sudden felt exposed. She had never showed such weakness before anyone else, even when in the face of death. Somehow, without so much as a word, Natalie had allowed her to show herself - a glimpse of the small, helpless patient lost in an unknown asylum. 

Natalie reached for her knee, seemingly with intent to inspect the once shattered patella. But she clutched her hands to herself prematurely and stood. "No, attendre. First things first. We need to warm you up."

She scurried about Wraith's dismally empty dorm, spying for anything that could lend her heat. The search took her to the bedroom, from which she shortly returned with the single thin blanket from her twin-sized bed. A pout tugged at Natalie's face as she draped the blanket around Wraith. Dissatisfied with her find, she continued on to seek out any further possible objects of comfort Wraith might have hiding away. 

"Natalie," she called out to the girl who had found the bathroom. "Quit all the fussing, I'll be okay."

She took care to keep her voice soft, despite the fact that the search was setting her on edge. Wraith knew she had nothing to hide but the emptiness itself, and she had a feeling Natalie would continue to fret over just how dull and dusty her home life really was. It seemed almost second nature to the girl to worry. Wraith's mind tormented her with memories of the Hunt; each instance of Wattson saving her life scrolled before her like a receipt of what exactly she owed the girl.

Everything. She owed Natalie everything.

_"Thank her already!"_

Voices rolled in to accent the memories filling her head. She wasn't even in danger and still her defender was here, putting herself through great stress for Wraith's sake. Natalie deserved better. She ought to be out with the others, unwinding after an eventful day. Food, drinks, good old-fashioned socialization. 

But her friend was obstinate. Wraith heard the faucet running from the bathroom for an extended moment; and when it ceased, Natalie shortly appeared with a hot compress in hand. 

Wraith opened her mouth, "Hey-"

"Relax." She spoke rather sternly as she pressed the washcloth against Wraith's brow, coaxing her to lean back. "Let me help you."

She couldn't ask for any more help. What was next? Natalie unbinding the rest of her synapses? Wraith couldn't make her do that even if she volunteered, in which she knew the young woman wouldn't hesitate. 

Standing behind the chair, Natalie's hands drifted to Wraith's shoulders to try and rub some warmth into her body, but then she hesitated. "...Does it still hurt?"

Wraith's gaze lifted up to her from where her head lay back. "I'm fine, Nat. Really."

Her pale eyes flashed as the Others bellowed their frustration. She winced at Wattson's knowing frown. "What are they saying?"

The tone was almost demanding. Wraith picked her head up, letting the washcloth drop into her hand. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she waited for the cacophony to settle. When she finally returned her attention to Natalie, her eyes were glassed over. "Thank you."

The blond tilted her hooded head. "Wh-"

"For everything. From all of us. Thank you."

Natalie's stare seemed to take on a new sheen at those words. Gently did she stoop over and drape her arms around Wraith, resting her cheek atop scraggly black hair. "I made a promise, didn't I?"

"So did I," Wraith countered. "Only you came through with yours. I didn't."

"But you're still here! And so am I," said Wattson with a brightening voice as she squeezed her shoulders. "I will not let anything like that happen to you again."

Pain slipped an unexpected hitch in Wraith's words when she spoke next. "You've done more than enough for me already."

Natalie's touch left her, and she walked around the chair to look Wraith head on. Deep blue eyes studied the pale white face. "You _are_ still hurting, aren't you?"

Wraith protested with a warning in her voice, only to be shushed by the girl.

"At least let me fetch some painkillers from the clinic for you."

"Am I allowed to say no at all?"

She had folded her hands together in a mock plea towards Natalie, despite already knowing the answer. In return, the young woman before her lifted her eyes in feigned consideration with an overly-cute purse of the lips. Her reply was short, sweet, and non-negotiable.

"No."

Pulling the blanket tighter around herself, Wraith relented with a grumbling nod. Yeah, she wouldn't be able to say no to Natalie, even if allowed. There were few people in this world whom were gifted such a coercing influence over her.

In fact, Natalie was the _only_ person with such power, Wraith realized. She didn't keep many friends. Sure, she let her hair down - so to speak - around Path, and occasionally Witt. But Wraith was a tightly sealed package, only able to be peeled into through the most surgical incisions. Up until the Scavenger Hunt, she would have slammed the door on any person brave enough to pry their way through her walls. 

And yet Natalie had slipped through to her in broad daylight. As Wraith watched the girl hurry on out of her dorm, she felt her will to keep her out steadily dying. She couldn't fathom what Natalie saw in her that was so worth protecting, but Wraith was certain of one thing. 

This blond beacon had shown its light upon her, streaming through her walls and illuminating her soul. And like a thief, Natalie just might have stolen her very heart. 


	4. Wracked to Sleep

**Wracked to Sleep**

  
A new blind spot was rapidly developing within her. It was subtle, and yet sudden. Wraith didn't realize it was there until it walked out of her room. 

Natalie's presence had cast a soothing shadow over her fear, dulling her anxiety for the situation at hand. But now, in her absence, Wraith felt even more vulnerable than before. The flurry of her mixed emotions were settling like spent adrenaline. Clarity returned to her mind and she remembered just what had left her in such a pained state.

Tossing her blanket aside, Wraith glared down at the implant pattern which zig-zagged its way around her legs. The soreness had reached deep within her muscles, telling her she had waited far too long to tend to her remaining gear. Wraith slid her fingers under the elastic belt that held the synapses to the implants. Dread halted her hands, and Wraith allowed her mind to wander while she waited for her nerves to quiet.

It was Revenant's earlier words that set up camp in the forefront of her mind. He had assured her she would be safe for the time being, but that did nothing to comfort her. Another Hunt would be coming; time was not her ally.

With a shake of the head, Wraith steeled herself. She needed to be ready for anything, for which her body must be allowed to recuperate. She cursed her ailing muscles, and finally tugged a portion of the synapses away from their housings on her calves. Wraith's face spread wide with a grimace. These metal bits were different than the ones on her shoulderpads - the synapses connected to implants via piercing tubes long enough to reach through the thickness of her boots. A seething hiss escaped her as the thick needles pulled away with all the serenity of a vacuum slurping sinew through a too-small straw. 

Each additional bundle of synapses she removed added another slice of pain that dashed mercilessly through her leg. But Wraith didn't have time to remove one bit at a time. She knew Natalie wouldn't be taking long in retrieving those painkillers. 

By the time the last was extracted, Wraith was doubled over in the chair. Her eyes fixed upon the floor between her feet as she let out one whimpering breath after the other. Agony bore deep into her legs, even to where her bones now felt like shattered kindling that would crumble away and fill her muscles with splinters should she even move. But at least she was finally free.

Free of the chains that bound her to the void, perhaps, but not from the chilly agonizing grip that reminded her of its burden. It was the kind of lingering pain that shot into her lungs and stoked the fires of unbridled frustration. She was so sick of this battle against herself. Wraith struck her uninjured leg out, kicking away the end table that was still sitting in front of her. In her anger it was sent tumbling across the room, and then she herself crumbled into pieces on the floor. Multiple jowls of fire gnashed through her legs in punishment for her outburst.

Wraith growled at herself where she lay. She hadn't the luxury of giving into pain so easily. Now more than ever, allowing herself to be incapacitated like so would only mean certain death.

In her mind's eye she could see it: Revenant stumbling in on her in her current state. Wraith felt nothing but disgust for the woman cowering on the floor as the simulacrum finally ended her miserable existence. 

But then her mind continued one step further, showing her Natalie arriving at the door just in time to watch. 

An ache burst through her chest at the thought. Wraith reminded herself of where she was - curled up on the hard, unswept floor. The ache persisted into a steady throb within her as she realized her friend could very easily walk in on her like this.

Just the thought of Natalie almost made her want to let her guard down. Through torn feelings, she knew she daren't show anything less than the bravest face she could muster. The girl would be back any moment. From where she lay, Wraith gathered the discarded synapses, and pulled herself through the grueling climb to her feet. Glass laced her bones as she put her weight on her legs. One wrong move, and she could splinter to pieces. 

A rapping on her door hastened her.

"Ey, hope ya decent in there, Ajay Che's comin' in!"

...Wattson brought Lifeline over?

Wraith strode to the dresser where she had hidden the gauntlet, and filed away the last of the synapse bindings before slamming the drawer closed. She turned away and leaned back against the piece of furniture just as Lifeline flung the door open. Both DOC and Wattson were in tow. Wraith stared at each of them in turn.

"What's all this about?" The steeliness in her voice restrained any pain from seeping out through her words. 

"Go on, dontcha stand there lookin' like a lost toddler. Paq filled me in on how ya overexerted yeself n' got all beat up, so I thought I'd come check it out for myself."

At Wraith's uneasy glance, Wattson shrunk into her hoodie. She murmured out, "Thought you needed a little more than just painkillers."

Wraith slumped in response, relinquishing as Lifeline patted the arm of her chair in a beckoning gesture. "As much as I wanna believe her, ye don't exactly fill me with confidence after ya stunt in the games today. Talk's all over town a' how ya pulled the heartstrings of innocent li’l Paq here n’ sent her throwin' herself off a ledge."

Lovely. In the wake of that ruse had Wraith been left merely as the subject of the other fighters' animosity. It was for the better, for all of them. With each drop into the arena, the roster places its lives in the Syndicate's hands. If the other fighters began to question the integrity of the Games, they might end up in just as much danger as her. 

Which begged the question... what even was ARES's motive?

Wraith took her seat (begrudgingly so - she felt like she had been here all evening), but didn't fail to notice how Wattson's eyes darted between the discarded blanket and overturned endtable. When those deep blues returned to meet hers, Wraith found herself unable to maintain the contact. She was only worrying Wattson more and more with each passing minute. And she hated that.

Wraith sunk back into the chair as DOC gravitated towards her face, its little turtle-like head examining her closely. A few blinks of its headlight, a tilt in its neck, and the drone let out a small warning chime. Lifeline leaned over her with a scanner shortly pressed against her forehead. The woman read the results as they were sent to her banner.

"Huh. Hypothermic much?"

"What?" Both Wraith and Wattson questioned in unison. "Quoi?"

"Ya body temperature's a few degrees lower than average. Better getcha'self bundled up."

"I've always been lower than average," retorted Wraith, spying Wattson out of the corner of her eye where she was fetching the forgotten blanket. Even DOC, still hovering over her, let its propulsors go dormant and dropped itself into her lap. Though the drone’s weight forced a small “oof,” she couldn’t deny the comfort of the residual heat from the jets on its underside. DOC gave her a reassuring chirp, to which she rolled her eyes.

Lifeline crossed her arms. "Bet it's that heart a' stone ya got buried in there keepin’ ya nice n’ chilly."

"Ajay," Wattson spoke up as she once again spread the covering over Wraith, spurring DOC to slip away. "I tried telling the others. If she were to die, we wouldn't have been able to bring her back."

"Ain't that jus her cover story?"

"No!"

Wraith's eyes snapped shut at the pain in Wattson's voice. She never should have gotten the girl involved.

"Her wounds were so much more severe than they should have been. I was there. I was... almost too late."

"Hm." Lifeline pondered those words. She looked to Wraith. "It jus don't add up."

"Check her leg. Or, her stomach. She was injured there too."

With brow furrowed, Wraith protectively crossed her arms over the hole in her belly. No way. She was not ready for _anyone_ to see that. 

"Aight, aight," Lifeline muttered as she accessed one of DOC's compartments. "Le's see what kinda damage we got."

It was another probe she retrieved from the drone, connected to DOC’s chassis and more comprehensive than her initial thermometer-like scanner. The flat head suggested it was possibly fluoroscopic. 

"Left knee, right?" The question was more of a warning to Wraith that the scanner was about to make contact. But even so, she still wasn't ready for the hard surface to press against tenderized flesh. She stiffened, pressing herself deep into the chair with a seething hiss. Lifeline tilted her head up at Wraith with confusion and concern written on her face. "Really? That bad?"

Wraith couldn't answer through tightly pursed lips. She held her leg rigid as she waited for the medic to continue. 

"I gotcha, jus hold as still as ya can n’ I'll take care a' the rest."

Inhaling slow and deep through the nose, Wraith managed to comply. Her fingers knotted into the fabric of the armrests while Lifeline methodically dragged the scanner over the crown of her fragile patella. She didn't even notice Wattson was again positioned behind the chair until those warm hands came to rest upon her shoulders. 

With the scan complete, Lifeline examined the data on her banner. Her expression was unreadable, but as the moment drew on, there came the nagging feeling that all was not well.

"How 'bout that..." Lifeline said at length. "Ye were right, Paq. The games ain't supposed to be this debilitatin'. Bad news for Wraith. The kneecap didn't set quite right."

Wattson's fingers upon her shoulders clenched ever so slightly, sending a heavy buzz washing down her body to battle the aggravation in her leg. Wraith frowned. 

"Gonna need surgery, looks like." The medic continued, "Could take a few weeks to heal properly."

"You're kidding," Wraith gaped. 

A sympathetic shake of the head came in return. "'Fraid not. They really shoulda taken ya outta the game soon as it happened. Definitely a malfunction. Y'said something ‘bout a belly wound?"

"It's fine." Wraith stated coldly in defense upon seeing Lifeline scoot closer. "Doesn't hurt."

That was not a lie, but still there came a sad sigh from Wattson above.

"Heh. Playin' tough. Still gonna check it out when ya come in for surgery." Lifeline retrieved a syringe from her med reserves and waved it in front of Wraith. "Here's ya painkiller for now. Potent stuff. Probably'll help ya sleep too. After this, me n’ Paq’ll see if we can't pull some strings to get the game systems inspected. Can't be havin' anybody dyin' on us now, ya feel me?"

The medic's gloved hands reached for Wraith's sleeve, at which she jerked her arm away. 

"Oh, c'mon." Lifeline rolled her eyes. "Ya ain't gonna refuse ya medicine now?"

"I can give it to myself, thanks." Wraith eyed the needle. 

A scoff came in return as she looked up to Wattson. "Get a load a’ this. Tough lady's shy."

"Let her be, Ajay. Please?"

A loud sigh, but Lifeline didn't argue. "Well, if ya ain't gonna take it from me, at least let her take care a' ya. I'll get a report started for the gamemasters."

"Thank you." Wattson waved after her as she departed with the syringe left on the dresser. "Au revoir, doc."

Wraith's stone cold face finally softened when she saw the drone chitter in return before the door latched shut. 

And then silence. Wraith stared down at her knee, her shoulders almost aching in the absence of Wattson's hands. 

The girl came into view before her as she righted the overturned endtable and dragged it back into place in front of the chair. Wattson hung her head low after seating herself, but Wraith thought she caught a glimpse of wetness in those shimmering blue eyes. Concern knitted her eyebrows together. 

"Nat?"

No answer. Wattson leaned forward, resting her face in the palms of her hands. Silence continued to reign, and Wraith decided it for the better. Sometimes Wattson just needed the quiet. 

But then she saw the tiniest sob shudder through the girl's body. She felt her heart drop into her stomach at the sight, watching with widened eyes as a second tremor shook Wattson. And then another.

"Hey, Natalie..." She pushed herself forward and offered up her arms to the girl before her. She was met by a palm at the base of her neck to hold her at bay. Teetering back into the chair, Wraith sat dumbfounded at the barrier.

"I'm sorry," came the weakest voice Wraith had heard yet from her. "I knew I did something wrong."

"No. You know it's not your fault."

She was not going to let Natalie blame herself.

"I should've died out there. But you had me up and moving in under two minutes." Wraith leaned down and looked up in attempt to get a better view of Natalie's face. "Two minutes... You realize how amazing that is?"

The girl's hands balled into fists, twisting into her eyes. Wraith's sunken heart nearly snapped in two when she caught a glimpse of the teary redness spread across that face. 

"Wasn't that amazing, you know," Natalie muttered. "I just let the medications do all the work."

"Hm. If I remember correctly, you mixed the injection yourself. You don't think just anyone has the ability to do that, do you? Gonna be all modest about being a life-saver?"

Wraith spotted the smallest smile tugging at that face for an instant before Natalie wiped her tears on her sleeve. Her hands lay idle in her lap for a few more moments; her head still hung low. Wordlessly, those hands drifted forward until they reached Wraith's. Cupping their fingers together, the two at last met each others’ gaze.

"Thank you," whispered Natalie. In response, Wraith only shook her head. 

"I didn't do anything."

"If I can't be modest, then neither can you." The light was returning to her ocean eyes. "You saved me too, remember?"

Wraith almost chuckled - exhaling through the nose with a short, amused puff. "Me? No way, you took care of yourself that whole match. I just happened to be in the neighborhood."

"No, non," she wagged a finger at Wraith. "Pathy was going to eliminate me, and you risked your life to get me out of there.”

Natalie paused, and seemed to almost shrivel into herself at the memory. Her voice lowered.

“I still can't believe you did that."

Wraith knew her meaning. She recalled how the Others had pleaded with her to move on. To not risk it. Her friend would have survived an elimination, and yet Wraith dove into battle regardless. When she opened her mouth to respond, Natalie stopped her as she continued with an even softer tone.

"Then, afterwards, you took me away from the noise. No one's ever really done that for me before, except for my Papa... some time ago."

Wraith had no answer to that. Was Natalie implying… what she thought she was implying? She almost let a hope spark within her - that maybe this girl actually thought of her as…? No. She shouldn’t get her hopes up. As much as Wraith longed to have someone she could call family, it was still such a foreign concept to her. She was certain her own feelings were clouding her judgement on the matter.

Natalie's fingers curled into hers a little tighter before drifting away. Rising to her feet, she slipped over to the syringe lying in wait upon the dresser. 

Wraith was left staring at her now empty hands, marveling at the effect Natalie’s touch had on her. Even the smallest gesture, such as the way her fingers always gave the tiniest extra squeeze, was enough to leave behind the fuzzy feeling of reassurance. 

She knew, irrevocably, that she could trust Natalie. But despite everything, a chill still shook her core when Wraith looked up and saw the needle. Administering a shot to herself was manageable enough, especially with the Apex-assigned loaders each fighter received. Yet having someone else do it manually was an experience worlds apart. The Apex viewership had always praised her ability to avoid incapacitation in the games, whether it be through her speed or cleverness or near unrivaled marksmanship. But not one of them knew her driving force was her determination to avoid the needle. Each shot of adrenergic stim from an unfamiliar hand was nearly enough to send her into a panic.

The memory of the scalpel was a star player in such attacks. 

Wraith's unease must have been plastered upon her face, for when Natalie turned back to her, she instantly noticed the change. 

"Something the matter?"

"I can take care of that myself, Nat," Wraith assured her. "Don't worry about the syringe. It's getting late anyway."

The girl's shoulders drooped. "Not this again..."

"It's okay. I know how to give myself a shot." Wraith hobbled to her feet and held her hand forward in a silent request for the syringe. 

Natalie’s mood flipped like a switch. A huff. A stomp of the foot that was just too adorabl- wait no. Not the time to think like that. Natalie approached with her jaw set and enough force in her strides to nearly send Wraith into a retreat.

Her hand was still out, and Natalie clapped her own to it with an iron grip. Wordlessly she led Wraith away from the chair and towards her dismal room. The limp in her leg was strong, but Natalie's hold on her was even stronger. When they came to a standstill by her bed, she could only wait for an explanation. But the girl remained silent for a moment longer. 

Wraith asked at length, "What's-"

"I don’t understand you, sometimes." Natalie's brow was furrowed as she studied Wraith’s face like one would study a blueprint. But there was no solution for her to deduct through any calculated means. "Is there something you're hiding? Why will you not let me help you?"

 _“You’re making her sad.”_ Wraith’s thoughts were echoed by the resonating alternates that observed from beyond. Natalie's presence was having that effect on her again as her resolve to keep a brave face was rapidly crumbling away.

Still, Wraith attempted to justify herself. “I just don’t think it's safe for you, here with me. Don't want you putting yourself in any more danger. Not before we know how big this thing we’re dealing with really is.”

“I don’t care how big it gets. It doesn’t matter if we have to fight the entire IMC.” Natalie shook her head, brushing away the bangs that tickled her face. Her near chitinous left hand moved further to push back the hood and let her blond hair bounce free. Wraith could have sworn the dusty abyss of her bedroom brightened, as if the girl were a nightlight. Even with the somber situation at hand, her radiance was indiffusible.

She was getting sidetracked again. Nat was sad.

"You don’t have to hide from me," The girl continued, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side as she kept her eyes on Wraith. It was just for a moment, just to allow a further glance at the scar. A show of vulnerability, she realized, that Natalie didn’t give to any random person. "You are my family, Wraith. Now more than ever.”

She stood in stunned silence, her head soaring as if someone had batted it clean from her shoulders like a tee-ball. Icy eyes fluttered; her gaze became entangled in the vines of Wattson’s scar braiding into thick, puckered branches as they crawled down her neck. 

She shut her eyes, hard, flushing out the distraction. Focus. Natalie had just spoken the unspeakable - the one thing Wraith thought she would never hear, the one and only thing that could send her burrowing down the emotional rabbit hole. She had to resurface, to stay on this plane of reality. Because Natalie didn’t really mean that, did she?

Wraith glanced at her companion with a small smirk. “Don’t you say that about everyone you squad up with?”

Try as she might to keep an air of levity, the skepticism that bled through her voice surprised even herself.

“N- No!” A desperate plea in those blue eyes before her speared Wraith clean through. But Natalie couldn’t look at her an instant longer before slouching forward. Her fluffy hair hung over her face like a cloud of gold. “I mean… Not like this.”

Wraith's lips parted, but then her breathing stilled as Natalie leaned headfirst into her chest. She found herself starstruck, unable to move an inch as the girl pressed the crown of her head against Wraith. As blond locks filled her senses, she struggled to comprehend just how... soft Natalie was. It was like a Nessie plush was sinking into her body.

Her hands remained idle while she battled the thoughts flickering erratically about her head. How she wished she could lose herself in this moment of affection... but it wasn’t her place.

Or was it...? The body leaning into hers seemed an awfully open invitation. Wraith ever so delicately tilted her head forward, lowering her lips towards Natalie's hair. Dare she steal even the most chaste kiss?

A thin hand encircling her wrist froze her before she could make contact. She briefly wondered if the girl could feel her heart thumping through her chest. But then, Natalie’s voice:

“Désolée, I didn’t mean to overstep.” Rough skin brushed against Wraith’s hand as the touch slipped away. She almost reached out after those retracting fingers, only to find the girl pulling from her entirely. “I know you probably don’t-”

A tiny crack in her weakening words spurred Wraith to move. She struck her hand out, more urgently this time, and gripped her friend’s shoulder. The ripples of the hidden scar were near tangible even through the fabric of the hoodie.

“Listen,” Wraith began, nothing less than enamored at the way Natalie met her eyes. “I’m the one who should be sorry… I-”

A sudden force barricaded her throat as her nerves began to take over. She wanted to tell her more, but she didn't know how to say it. All of this was still so new to her. 

Glancing down, Wraith saw the needle still in the other's hand. One step at a time. She placed her fingers on the syringe. Now was the time for a confession of trust, and not the time to confess... whatever this feeling was that swelled in her heart and billowed in her mind.

“It’s okay. Let’s do this.”

Wraith took confidence from seeing the tension in the girl’s body dissolve into relief. A softness tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Oui.”

Natalie seated herself at the edge of the bed, coaxing Wraith into doing the same. Even such a simple notion as sitting only flaunted Wraith’s current fragility, as she nearly collapsed with her stiffened leg. Embarrassment flooded her head from the awkward manner in which the rigid limb jutted out. She scowled at its unwillingness to bend. 

"It'll feel better after the medication," Natalie said, reaching for Wraith's wrist. "I promise."

One last recoil, one last shrivel of her hand, and Wraith mentally reprimanded herself. Trust her... Trust her!

She loosened the cuff of her sleeve and rolled the tough material up and over her elbow. Her arm was folded protectively against herself through the movement, but upon meeting Natalie's expectant glance, Wraith finally relinquished. 

Horror struck her as she saw the tremors reclaim her hand the moment she unclenched her fist and revealed her arm to her friend. She didn't dare keep eye contact; Nat's reaction was the last thing she wanted to see. But there was no turning back now. The black numerals that stenciled from wrist to elbow with military precision were fully revealed to the room, forming the tag 61137. 

Wraith traced the edges of the numbers with her eyes, knowing Natalie was doing the same. There had been no way of knowing how old this tattoo was. Thanks to the quality of its material and application, the pitch black ink hadn't faded in the slightest. 

Her eyes snapped shut as Natalie's fingers returned, though closing off her sight may not have been the best idea. From behind the veil of darkness, that soft touch became a whirlwind as it dragged up to her elbow, the sensation continuing through her arm and flushing to her head. By the time Natalie had found a vein and pressed the icy alcohol swab against it, Wraith had nearly forgotten about the tattoo. The girl hadn't said a word, hadn't hesitated, hadn't wavered. She merely offered the same comforting touch that Wraith was learning to crave. Under her friend’s hand, the tremor was silenced. 

"Ready?"

 _"Wait,"_ said one of the Others.

Peeling one eyelid open, Wraith saw the syringe poised before her skin. She sucked in a breath through the nose as she looked away. The glint of the needle was still enough to spur a constriction within her ribs, yet her arm was held steady as stone.

_"Hold up..."_

Ignoring the voices, Wraith nodded her consent.

_"Stop!"_

She refrained from watching - the piercing sensation alone swarmed her senses with its stinging discomfort. Her eyebrows crashed together when she felt the injection seep through that thread of metal. The painkiller wormed its way into her system, and Wraith gritted her teeth against the sensation of muscle and sinew parting to make room for the foreign fluid in her blood. Somehow, this was even worse than getting stimmed within the Games. Here there were no outside contenders or clashing squads to distract her from the frenzy her mind was surely spiraling into. Even as Natalie retracted the needle, her breathing was quickened and unsteady. The Others didn't help any, as their scolding pounded throughout her head.

_"You don't know what was in that stuff."_

"All done!"

_"How could you just let her do that?"_

_"You'll regret this."_

"...Wraith?"

Natalie's voice was nearly lost amongst those of the void. She squeezed her eyes a little tighter. Indignation had sparked within her knowing that, somehow, there was an assortment of her alternates out there who still didn't trust Natalie. How could they believe that the girl was anything less than her salvation?

Yet they continued to rave. The echoes of dozens slithered about the crowded walls of her mind, louder and louder. 

But then a layer of static draped over her to blot out the voices. It was heavy and mesmerizing, filling the abyss behind closed eyes with a million twinkles of light. Within seconds, her head nodded forward.

 _"No!!"_ The Others screeched at her, forcing her mind from this sudden, powerful haze. 

Wraith's eyes shot open wide, her irises bleached white and sclera laced with red. She jumped to her feet and staggered from her seat on the bed. Natalie stayed with her like a magnet. 

"Stay calm!"

Shaking the drowsiness away did no good. As soon as she refocused her eyes, the haze rushed back into her mind, clouding her senses anew. The injection… She was fading.

It was the familiar black figures at the edges of her vision which sent her skin crawling. Flinging herself away from Wattson, Wraith couldn't even make it to the door before her legs crumbled away beneath her. The only thing that stood between her and the floor was the footboard of her bed. Even then, her breath seeped from her with labored grunts as she struggled to retain consciousness. The black figures were swelling before her.

But, yet again, Wattson was there.

"Stay here, Wraith! It's best you lay down."

She felt herself nearly lifted back onto the bed. Try as Wattson might to lay her to rest, she held herself rigid - brittle, perhaps, but obstinate enough to hold at bay the weariness that was tearing down her body. Wraith remained seated upright for as long as she could, desperately trying to ignore the tiny silver glint that began to sparkle in the center of her vision. She was barely awake as her eyes lazily drifted in search of Wattson's face.

This is what the Others warned her of.

Wraith finally spoke in the general direction she sensed Wattson to be. "What did you do to me-"

Her voice was labored to where her words merely dribbled out low and heavy like a viscous venom. She was failing this game of consciousness.

"I didn't know it was a sedative, vraiment! Ajay only said it was supposed to help you sleep-"

"Che..." Wraith muttered. Her eyes had found Wattson, and now remained fixed as her body caved in on itself.

The girl was quick enough to catch her, and lower her gently onto her back. Wraith hissed out half-panicked breaths as her control over her own body was crumbling into nothing. Wattson's face hovered over her, but Wraith could not focus her eyes onto the details of her expression.

Blackness was engulfing her, drawing her down into oblivion. 

"You'll be okay, mon amie. I will _not_ lose you too."

She was still here, even in the depths of nothingness. The echoes of Natalie's voice accompanied her into the dark.

"Not you."

Like the nuances of her alternate selves, that soft voice seemed to reach directly into her mind. The doubt of the Others was swept away; there was no room left in her heart for distrust.

"You'll be alright."

With the weight of the world's oceans burying her in limbo, those words became her gospel. She never wanted to be without her again. Nothing she did, nothing the Others could tell her, would shake Wraith’s faith in that girl who had burned away the cobwebs of her life with an electrifying fire.

"I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to keep up this two week posting schedule but it may become difficult with the new season coming up. Trying to keep the events of this story in compliance with what's going on in the current canon narrative, so we'll see how that goes. Next few chapters are written (semi)alongside season 5. Will not be borrowing too heavily from quest events, but there will be influence from what's happened so far. 
> 
> Thanks again to those of you who are still reading! Hope these chapters aren't too long for some folks
> 
> p.s. rampart hype!!


	5. Picked the Right(?) Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> week late oops. there was a lot i wanted to accomplish thru this chapter and it was very hard to piece it all together. 
> 
> decided tags needed updating in prep for where the subject matter is going. this chpt is still pre-season 5, and the story's gonna divert from canon probably just before season 6.
> 
> 2020 is moving too fast for my feeble typing hands.

**Picked the Right(?) Road**

  
Cool blue eyes shot open to an even cooler grey. Wraith hadn’t realized her eyes were closed, but by now it was too late. The atmosphere had changed. Though she was still in her own room, the darkness was almost as complete as the abyss that she had sunken into only an instant before. Wraith propped herself up on her elbows, testing the soreness in her body, her shoulders, her legs. Pain was only a shadow, though the neurons in her knee seemed lost in a fog. Her attention drifted about the room as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She became aware of the ethereal haze of pre-dawn light. Its source eluded her. The glow of her digital clock was absent; the wall-to-wall screen of her ambient simulator was ever dormant. Not even a window to let in skylight. Wraith patted the sheets on her bed to feel for her banner, but that device too had died. 

No way to tell just how much time had passed. Wraith sat up fully, examining the state of her room. There wasn't much to see other than the minuscule, metal-framed bed and nightstand. The simulator had never been used since she'd moved in, closed off by unwelcoming steel grating that matched the dull color of the remaining walls. Nothing out of the ordinary here; this was her life. Quiet, gloomy, and layered with the dust of a one-track resident. But still something was off.

Her eye caught a silhouette against the wall near her door - a trick cast by the coat hanger that held a handful of her choice sweaters. It was a familiar enough sight, but the human-like shape slotted the missing piece in her mind. Someone was here with her.

Wraith dragged her feet over the edge of the bed, carelessly casting aside her blanket. Her room may have been empty, but she was positive she wasn’t alone. The Others notwithstanding - ever present, whispering wordlessly through her consciousness - there was someone else. A person had been here before she'd went under. A visitor, companion... friend? 

She winced as she strained to remember. Somehow her sabbatical in the abyss seemed to stretch on into eternity. It wasn't unlike her earliest memory: awakening in the labs without an inkling of her place in this reality. Her senses were open and alert as that same cluelessness seized her here and now. 

Quietly she stood, eyes on the closed door. Her body seemed to float as she moved, drifting ever forward despite the sluggish movement of her legs. The braced knee was especially heavy. Wraith felt like an aging balloon that slowly sank to the floor under the perpetual weight of the anchor. 

She seemed to be nearly crawling by the time her hand reached the door, but Wraith remained standing upright despite the hellish feeling. Only then did she notice the cool light faintly seeping through the seam at the foot of the door. So there really was someone out there, in her living room. 

Wraith slid the latch open, careful to not make a sound, before letting herself out of her bedroom. 

The light came from a small blueish lamp sitting atop her dresser against the opposite end of the living area. Its cold glow did little to fill the interior of her dorm, but at least Wraith could make out the shapes she saw as home. 

Only... there was a foreigner. An alien bundle nestled in her armchair. Wraith stalked around from behind to get a better look. 

It was a girl, fast asleep. Blond hair bleached white from the lamp; chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. A mere moment spent watching her filled Wraith with serenity. An open book lay face down against her stomach, cradled in place by limp hands. It was an obscure, old-world book Wraith had found long ago and treasured since. This young woman must have found it laying about. 

Wraith was transfixed by her down to the manner in which she sat - feet kicked up over the armrest, leaning sideways against the back of the chair. Her eyes drew to the sable embrace of her own scarf, wrapped loosely around the girl's shoulders. 

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it, restarting with an almost painful twinge. She knew this girl. She... felt something for her, didn’t she?

Wraith lofted away from the living room to the wasteland that was her kitchenette. Her eyes rummaged through the plethora of dirty dishes in similar taste to the way her mind wracked itself for memory. Spotting a relatively clean glass, Wraith turned on the tap for a drink. 

She knew of no person in the world able to fill her with such tranquility like the young woman currently sleeping on her chair. But who _was she_?

"How are you awake already?"

A soft voice from behind, confused but non-threatening. Still sudden enough to spin Wraith around, forcing her to drop her water in surprise. She didn't even notice the absence of shattering glass as she stared at the figure who had snuck up on her. 

The girl was nothing more than a hooded black silhouette, thanks to the only source of light in the room shining directly behind her. 

But then, gold began to glow beneath the fringes of hair that dangled low from her hanging head. This new light, however faint it might have been, danced along the edges of an object resting in the young woman’s palm open before her. Wraith's eyes were drawn in by the orange glint until she recognized the item was a knife. Her knife? 

No. Her own weapon was cool-toned and calming, accented by the soft blue found only in the void. This knife, kunai it may be, was angry. Flickers of flame wafted across the surface, glowing brighter until engraved letters became legible: FURIA. 

"Just how much are you hiding?"

The girl's voice had darkened drastically. Wraith flung her head upright to meet her gaze, horror-struck as very familiar cat-like eyes stared back at her in turn. Within that innocent face, golden irises burned into Wraith with insatiable bloodlust. She became rooted in place as this... person's hand gripped the knife tight. 

The light from those fiery eyes alone illuminated that countenance, reaching so far as to bounce off the scaley texture of the scarf still draped around her.

This was all wrong.

Wraith was petrified, frozen as solid as a stone-veined tree. This was not a friend. Not her knife, not her scarf. These belongings were-

From beneath the hood, a purple visor slammed shut over that young corrupted face. 

-the Voidwalker’s?

Teetering backwards in confusion, Wraith gave a frustrated grumble as her legs lagged in their movement. She could only collapse to the floor, scooting herself frantically into a corner away from her imposter. The ghostwraith poised itself over her with a predatory stance. 

Without hesitation, her attacker collapsed upon her, knife streaking towards the scar in her belly with murderous intent. The instant the blade plunged through skin, Wraith folded in on herself like a card table. A single, strained gasp was wracked from her body as her hands fumbled at the fabric around her midsection. 

Nothing was there.

She froze, waiting for the sensation of puncturing pain to pinpoint where she had been stabbed. She felt it pierce and push through her scar. Wraith pressed her fingers against the surface to feel for the blood she was certain would spill. Yet the skin never broke.

It was only… a phantom?

Her eyes were closed, her leg immobilized, her body weary. Wraith scowled, and ever so hesitantly slitted one eyelid open. 

She was back in bed, but she wasn't home. Falling back onto her elbows, Wraith scanned around in confusion, trying to place herself. 

It was a hospital room. Soft silence all around. Soothing dawnlight seeped through fresh curtains. The room was doused in utter peace, and Wraith would have soaked it all in if she weren’t so perplexed. This atmosphere was worlds displaced from her own room, where the quiet was saturated with dust and misery. 

Her hand splayed itself over her stomach. So she had been dreaming, but for how long? Her encased leg held in traction told her that the Scavenger Hunt had certainly been real. Everything after that was blurred by fog.

She barely recalled the fiery-eyed Voidwalker with orange kunai. Those eyes unearthed a deeper memory of Revenant, snickering at her with his threats. From there, the haze began to disperse. Muscles clenched as more images resurfaced, but in doing so a pressure was highlighted in her shoulders. Absentminded fingers slipped under the short sleeves of her hospital gown, feeling for the bruised implants. There was faint warmth there, wrapped around her upper arms. Someone had bandaged her with heatpacks. 

A wave of chagrin spread over her scalp as Wraith grimaced. Never before had she felt so exposed. Even here, alone, she felt as if she were drowning in a sea of people with nothing to protect her but her bare skin. 

She stared down at her arms - the flesh white as paper, tattoo black as obsidian. Even the small indents dotting her left forearm, thanks to the gauntlet’s blunt teeth, stood painfully obvious. Wraith loathed to think of how many people might have seen her like this.

A shuffling came from the direction of the window. Wraith stiffened as she heard a breathy murmur emanate from what she had initially thought was a bundle of clothes piled onto a cushioned bench. Beneath a puffy jacket was hidden a sleeping face. 

Time stood still as memory inundated the final cavities in Wraith’s head. It was her. She knew her - a constant presence throughout the turmoil that had seized her desolate life. The eye of her storm.

“Natalie,” Wraith attempted to speak, but her voice was broken. The name drifted from her lips in barely a whisper. It was sight of her scarf draped over that small body that truly snapped her heart. _Her_ scarf. Not Voidwalker’s. Not anyone else’s. She was clinging to her as much as Wraith yearned to do the same. Natalie was the only person in this dimension who regarded her as family. Wraith's hand was reaching in her direction before she even realized-

_"Let her sleep."_

Her own voice rang out in her head. Wraith's reach withered. The Others… they had been watching over her while she slept. Wraith pondered what information they could give her. 

She whispered to the stillness. “How long was I out?”

_“Not sure.”_

_“About 30 hours.”_

_“Way too long.”_

Wraith winced as a dozen responses barreled through her brain at once. “One at a time, please.”

A pointless request. Her alternates had no awareness of each other. Most were only capable of peeking into her reality for short periods in passing. She couldn’t imagine what would coerce any of them to stay for longer than that.

 _“This is the first Nat’s slept the whole time,”_ one of the lingerers added. 

A pouting look in Natalie’s direction. “What did they do to me?”

Hesitation. The Others must’ve heeded her request, and now all waited for each other to speak despite their inability to intercommunicate. Wraith rolled her eyes when their response, albeit at length, came simultaneously.

_“Only what needed to be done.”_

_“Che patched you up, that’s all.”_

Wraith’s gaze glowered as she listened to the hollow reassurances her selves continued to chatter. These certainly weren’t the same alternates who had bellowed at her to reject Lifeline's sedative. Much like how she had left Voidwalker behind, perhaps those fearful Others had moved on. Or, perhaps - in other dimensions - there were versions of her more openly vocal of her hatred for needles. The ones that currently spoke to her seemed far more calm.

_“None of the other fighters saw, if that helps.”_

Admittedly, it did. Wraith’s hands lifted again to the bandages that concealed her implants. 

_"Nat covered them up. No one else except Che knows."_

That image churned her stomach. Wraith collapsed backwards, her untied hair spilling across the pillow. A hurricane that had been brewing in her gut now swelled and reached its arms up to constrict her throat. Again her mind was inundated with everything Natalie had done for her since her life had fallen under fire. From the weight of the storm within, her gaze grew heavy with eyes beginning to smart and redden. Wraith brought her tattooed arm up to rest across her face, hiding her sight in the crook of her elbow as she felt tears gathering at the gates.

This couldn’t be real. She was nothing more than a broken, nameless ghost in this foreign universe. She didn’t deserve to have someone like Natalie looking after her. Whether it be the scars of her mysterious past, or the threat of her uncertain future, she felt like she was torturing the girl with her constant troubles. Trust for Natalie may have filled her heart, but her soul screamed out in guilt for being such a burden. She couldn’t continue like this.

The knob on the med unit's door twisted without warning. Wraith's ears only barely picked up on it, and her body went rigid. 

_"It's Che,"_ reassured several of the Others. 

Hardly reason for her to relax. Sneaking a sedative into the syringe had been a dirty trick. Wraith locked the gates and steeled her countenance before removing her arm from her face. 

"Good, so ya actually 'wake this time," mumbled Lifeline. Her voice was suppressed in consideration for the girl sleeping across the room. Wraith watched warily as Lifeline waved a handheld device at her. "Ya vitals givin' me a couple false alarms last night."

"False alarms?" 

"Heart rate goin’ up, eye movement changin’, y'know the works. Had me thinkin' you's wakin' up earlier than expected."

Wraith scowled down at the screen of Lifeline's banner, where there was sent all manner of information on her physical status. She couldn't pick up any ill will from the medic, and apparently neither could the Others. Still, being monitored like so only reminded her of the labs. Trust became difficult with such a recollection.

“I knew you’s not one for sleepin’ much.” Lifeline said after a moment of silence. “But I ain’t ever realized how bad ya got it. Insomnia-wise.”

“Sleeping for 30 hours doesn’t sound like insomnia to me.”

The medic quirked an eyebrow, oblivious as to how Wraith would have gotten that information. But she went on to explain, “Ya almost woke up before ye're supposed to. Paq caught ya sleepwalkin' the first night-"

Wraith's gaze faltered.

"- n' then ya started stirrin' while we was operatin' on ya knee. Heh, sure scared the nerves outta the surgeon."

Looking down at her strung-up leg, Wraith rifled through her thoughts. "Don't remember a thing."

"'Course ya wouldn't. That's the kicker there. Ya body acted like it was wakin' but you's jus' as unconscious as ever. Tranquilizers made sure a’ that."

Lifeline reached out in the direction of the implants, to which Wraith recoiled. 

“Oh, don’ be like that. Jus’ checkin’ to make sure ya warmed up.”

Her nerves had yet to settle. As reliable as the medic might be, Wraith wasn’t satisfied. “Why didn’t you tell us about the sedative?”

“Oh really,” she scoffed. “Think ya woulda taken it if ya knew?”

Wraith pursed her lips.

“I wasn’ ‘boutta let ya rattle that knee ‘round any more than ya had to. N’ I be gettin’ wise enough to see ya ain’t plannin’ on helpin’ y’self. Jus’ doin’ what we hadda do. Was a bad ‘un, y’know.”

When Lifeline cast a soft glance in Natalie’s direction, Wraith felt herself lose her grip. The young medic was crafty, and more than once had sung her to sleep in games past - with a fat needle puncturing Wraith’s neck. But she knew Lifeline was no such menace outside of the arena. Maybe she could be trusted. 

“Thanks, I guess, then. For patching me up,” she finally said. A chuckle came in return.

“There, that wasn’ so hard, yeah?” She patted Wraith on the hand. “Look, me n’ Paq got our report in. Word’s out how hurt ya got. They won’ be able to ignore this, so ya don’ gotta worry ‘bout anythin’.”

At the mention of Natalie, Wraith turned her head from Che to watch the girl in question. At some point she had stirred and twisted to face away, towards the window. Above her the curtains allowed soft rays of light to drape across her bundled up form. The sun would undoubtedly wake her soon. 

“Jus take it easy for a while, ya hear me?” Che said as she stood. “Leg’s gonna be fine after some healin’ and some rehab. Y’ll be good to go by next season.”

Wraith nodded her acknowledgement, but said nothing. The tug of longing pulled at her countenance as she watched Natalie. She felt the medic’s presence hesitate at the door, before she left with a sigh. Wraith’s mind and body released her to revel in the quiet. 

Finally, she could allow herself to bask in the luxury of safety. The sight of Natalie’s sleeping form, rising and falling with each breath, lulled her into a hypnotic state. The mattress gave way beneath her, allowing her healing body to sink heavily into its embrace as sleep began to overtake her senses.

Rest like this never came easy to her, but it seemed today was the exception. Her eyes were again closed without her knowledge; her consciousness was lost to oblivion even when a scarred hand wove its fingers between hers.

The next time she woke, she was alone. The bundle of clothes by the window was gone; her fingers grasped at thin air with an ache for another’s touch. 

“Where's Nat,” Wraith whispered to the Others.

 _“Don’t know.”_ Replied most. And then one: _“She said she was sorry.”_

The fog of sleep in her mind was washed away by a wave of shock. Only shortly before had she almost wished for Natalie to leave - to protect herself. The girl had sacrificed so much of her time and energy into watching over her, but now, at long last, it seemed she had given up. She had finally stopped trying.

She was sorry, and she was gone.

Wraith had known it was for the best, yet that first week without Natalie was abysmal. Emptiness pervaded her days and haunted her nights. Nothing to hold the terrors of her over-anxious mind at bay. All she could do was lay there in the isolated med unit and fight for that tranquil rest which had come so easily in Natalie's presence.

It was one of the longest weeks of her life. But, at the very least, Wraith managed to pull herself out of bed by the tenth day. 

She couldn't possibly be any less prepared for the weary road to recovery before her. Fortunately, friendly faces visited frequently enough. Wraith managed to find ease with Che as her nurse and physician, and Path became her most reliable companion in the wake of Natalie’s absence.

Even Witt and Octane paid her a handful of visits during physical therapy, much to her embarrassment. Che went so far as to use the speedster as bait for her exercises. 

“Go on now,” Lifeline had said while Wraith shakily grasped the handlebars. “If ye can make it to ‘im, ya get to deck ‘im.”

With Octane taunting and spinning his wheels in place, she had never been so driven in her life. No injury conceivable could keep her from marching over and shutting him and his squeaky joints up. Octane had made the mistake of poking his tongue at her as he jeered, “C’mon abuelita, you ain’t ever catchin’ me with those legs. Ha HA!”

“Eat thermite.”

Her strides had been stiff but swift, her face dark as she closed in on her finish line. A new post-surgery personal record set for herself followed up by a swing and miss of her fist. Naturally, the coward had bolted. 

Lifeline in turn had bolted his legs to the floor from then on out. With Wattson scarce, Octane was just the ticket to keep Wraith motivated. His annoying force of chaos injected life into her therapy sessions. She would never admit it to a soul, but Wraith had grown to appreciate him for his complete lack of pity for her. It urged her to push herself like nothing else would. 

She worked herself like the threat upon her life still loomed over her. The traffic of the Others increasingly congested her mind with each day she remained in the hospital. Early on, those alternates that were passing through had offered encouragement as they watched her exercises. But over time their voices, though multiplying, steadily weakened and muddled together. Clear encouragements became unintelligible reprimands. What words she could discern had been frantic before those too were muzzled by time.

As her first month post-surgery came to a close, the Others had become little more than a droning cry, as if they were wind and her mind were the tunnel. But with their constant presence, any trace of color faded from Wraith's eyes - and not in the same manner as the shimmering white that often accompanied the voices’ callouts. Piercing blue irises had faded to gray ice. Her pupils remained untouched.

They matched the perpetual weight in her soul as she carried on as little more than a dead-eyed ghost.

Sleep eluded her for the duration of the month. Not only thanks to the voices, but to the knife that had slowly been embedding itself in her heart. She missed Natalie. 

When Silva wasn’t distracting her with his infuriating antics, thoughts of the girl would instantly flood her mind. She was always there, subconsciously. Several times each day Wraith would catch a glance of her out of the corner of her eye, only to look and see nothing but a trick of light and geometry. 

Wattson’s disappearance snagged the thread of guilt that hung loose in Wraith's heart. Day by day it unraveled, bearing her open like a live wire.

All the trust in the world meant nothing if she couldn't show it. During her time in recovery, Wraith had slowly recalled the accusatory manner in which she spat at Wattson before losing consciousness - that night before her surgery. Under the duress from the sedative's effects, Wraith had shown her true colors. And after such a shameful show of doubt... the girl had every reason to leave. 

Agonizing thoughts and desperate insomnia darkened her recovery, but could not keep her from pushing her progress to the max. She had to be ready to fight alone. Wattson had given her a second chance in this life, and there was no way in hell Wraith would force anyone to rescue her like that again. She didn't deserve it. She had done nothing to earn Wattson's aid to begin with. 

When the time had finally come, and Che had greenlit her release, Wraith all but sprinted from the hospital.

There was no further time to lose. 

Though Lifeline and Wattson's report had successfully put an early end to the Apex season, the hiatus was to not be extended. 

She had a mountain to climb to catch up to the other fighters who were already a month into their off-season routines.

Wraith found herself none too keen on training with any of them. The wound in her stomach might feel like a distant memory by now, but the conspicuous brace on her knee would serve as a sharp reminder well into the coming months. She didn't care for anyone to witness her reaccustoming to the strenuous Apex workload. Tension held her tight enough already, strung up like a violin. 

So Wraith kept to the solitude of night, training from dusk until dawn. Not even the leviathans had been present to watch over her during her first week back in action. 

But she always felt it regardless. The tickle of someone's eyes upon her back. Wraith forced herself to fight through the sensation, for she knew it would be ever present as the new season approached. 

Now, here she was, perched casually on solid rock under the soft green Solace dawn. Her muscles screamed for rest thanks to the overtime she had been pushing herself through, night after night. But if one were to watch her, they would never know. Her discipline had returned, her demeanor calm and steady despite her body's protests. 

Wraith fidgeted with a handful of weapons' mods laid out before her. She flipped the switch on a Wingman and listened to how the solitary click of the opening chamber bounced off the surrounding sandstone. A quick modification, and she would be ready for a few cooldown shots as she wrapped up her regimen. 

A wave of static hit her from the newly installed charge tower nearby. Wraith cringed from the sensation as her hair stood on end. Just another reminder. Her attention turned to her gauntlet. The energy snoozed quietly within the apparatus, having not been used since the day of the Hunt. She was almost too nervous to activate it, and had refrained from doing so this first week back on the range.

After over a month spent in the discomfort of the hospital and physical therapy thereafter, returning to the void could be like returning home. 

But Wraith wasn't so certain. Her last visit to the world between dimensions had been her overexposure during the Hunt. Memories of the pain laced through her mind, planting an uncertainty within her. A tiny leaflet of fear sprouted that maybe, just maybe, she may have damaged her connection to the void. 

Wraith scowled. Pain? Fear? She had lost her edge. Angrily she unloaded a clip from the Wingman into the bodies of the nearest dummies. There was no time for this anxiety. The new season was fast approaching, and Wraith had no luxury to spare for fickle things like uncertainty and doubt. There was no telling when her hunters might resurface.

For when that day arrives, she'll be alone.

Reclaiming the void was her next step. 

Stowing her weapon, Wraith grasped her gauntleted wrist before her. Her eyes narrowed as she steeled her mind and felt out that dimensional thread to pull. Blue energy began to waft out from her device when it awoke. With silken fingers the energy probed through her synapses. She almost had it.

Ice began to seep into her veins from the wrist upward. Her confidence wavered when the sensation began to escalate, showing how her control had weakened from time. Wraith released the quivering limb, and pressed two fingers against her temple to aid her straining focus. She had it.

A seam of shadowy blue threaded the air in front of her. Wraith snatched it up with her gauntlet hand, causing the phase world to snatch her in turn. Coldness enveloped her with soothing arms as the landscape turned crystalline. The fingers of the void pried into her body, constricting her breathing and restricting her circulation with an almost welcome touch. It was familiar - a sign of life returning to her semi-normal. But Wraith knew not to push it. 

She moved swiftly across the weapons' platforms, testing the effect upon her body. Wraith felt lighter than ever before, somehow. Like the hands of the void were carrying her from within. She glanced at her surroundings just as she released her grip on the phase. The multitude of the Others were there at the Firing Range with her, in far greater numbers than she expected. 

Wraith frowned at herself as the blue gave way to sandy dust. Her body buzzed with gentle pin pricks while she recuperated from the phase. Much better. Surprisingly enough, her tolerance of the void seemed to have improved. Even the wisps of energy about her body dissipated faster than they ever had before. Within seconds, she was ready for another.

The improvement was a welcome encouragement, but her trek through that dimension seemed to awaken the Others that had been droning weakly between her ears. Their collective voice strengthened, and though still unintelligible, they plagued her mind with the vision of their sheer numbers within the phase. Never before had there been so many of her alternate selves accompanying her at the range. At least, not that she had noticed. Wraith mulled over the ghosts she had seen, replaying the sight in her mind's eye. There was something about them that didn't quite feel like... herself. Like it wasn't her alternates alone that she was seeing. Wraith's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but regardless, she had one more set of exercises to finish.

Marksmanship, dexterity, endurance. The final routine took her high into the sniper's nest. She had to be ready for anything, from any vantage. The weariness that dragged from her limbs must be expelled. 

Yet the memory of the Others' shadows dug into her head like a tick. 

Wraith dropped from the nest onto a zipline, waiting for a sandstone pillar to cross beneath her before jumping down. Her intent was to skip off the stone into a steep slide down the rest of the sandy grade. Every extra ounce she added to her momentum could mean life or death in the arena. It didn't go as smoothly as she had hoped. 

She led her landing with the previously wounded leg, which buckled gracelessly under the sudden weight. Wraith tumbled forward out of control. The hillside was there to catch her, but only to allow her an unceremonious roll down to rest.

There she lay on her back where the grade dumped her, staring up at the Solace morning. Dismay wracked her heart at the inability to stick such a simple landing; and yet, not even that could distract her mind from the phenomenon she had seen in the void. She had to know.

Wraith reached her hand up with a deep breath, pulling herself back into the phase as she rose into a sitting position. 

There they were, dotting the landscape. Dozens of loose figures were sketched against a pale blue canvas. She was used to the sight. They were always with her. But they had always been alone. Wraith saw the typical ones - those trained upon the dummies or crawling along the cliffs of the range. Then she found the others who were not as solitary as they should have been. Wraith squinted in attempt to focus, but they only sputtered in her vision like phantoms in her peripheral. 

Despite being mere silhouettes, she was certain there was a companion standing next to many of these alternates. Wraith's jaw slowly dropped as each instance of the foreign figures were pieced together. By the time her trip in the phase was nearly over, it was undeniable. They were Wattson.

Gray eyes darted about as Wraith took them all in. Some were practicing with her, others competing, but most were... sitting. Lounging together in the solace of the quiet range. And even among those, the posture varied greatly. She saw a couple sitting casually in the bleachers above. Nearby on the armory platforms was Wattson and another alternate poised across from each other, possibly conversing. 

It was time to return from the void, but Wraith almost wanted to force herself to stay - as if this were her only chance to see the girl. Her eyes encircled the area one last time, falling to rest on the cliffside balcony that overlooked the new charge tower. There she saw one last iteration that seemed... closer... than the others. And more solid. 

She and Wattson, sitting leaned up against each other, presumably watching the same sunrise that Wraith was currently training alone under. Her lungs clenched with the force of a hydraulic press. Now she knew: 

In another life, she did find a future with the young woman who had brought light into her life.

Wraith let go of the void, her eyes still set upon that balcony. 

When the blue shadows gave way, Wraith’s breath was stolen entirely as her eyes were greeted by the real thing. Wattson was there, perched upon that same balcony, legs dangling over the edge. Frozen in time, Wraith could only stare. Was that really her? Was she _really_ there?

Wattson hopped off the ledge, having realized she was spotted. She was outfitted in her full battle gear; the jump kit allowed her a safe descent into the range where she trotted over to Wraith's side. 

Her heart writhed about beneath her ribs, unable to find a steady beat. 

The girl hovered over her with a fond smile, yet there was an uneasiness in her eyes accented by the heel of her sneaker nervously twisting into the sand. Words failed Wraith as a whirlwind of emotions spun her into a frenzy. How she had missed her, but she couldn’t fathom why she was here.

When Wattson finally sat, it was a pace apart from her. Well out of reach. Wraith knew she had seen a handful of the Others in this similar position within the phase world. The ones whom she could tell were more distant from each other. Her throat began to close without her consent. Wattson wasn’t looking at her, favoring the sight of the roosting leviathans across the sea. Those giants would be waking soon. 

For now, silence reigned. One question fumed within Wraith’s mind as she watched Wattson, but her voice was locked away. She knew the truth, and she knew she needed to hear it. Yet she could not muster the courage to ask for it.

The girl obviously felt her stare, from the way her eyes softly fluttered, or when the corners of her mouth would barely turn up with a trace of a sad smile. She did not return Wraith’s gaze. Her fingers played absentmindedly with whatever they could get a hold of. The fabric of her suit. The sand of the hillside. The golden bangs beneath her hood.

It wasn’t until the rising sun finally spilled its light into the range did Wattson manage to speak. She glanced up at the wisps of clouds that were being burned away by morning warmth. 

“You’re here early today,” the girl murmured, her voice quiet as if it were even an effort to speak at all.

Wraith was experiencing the same difficulty. She swallowed once, twice, hard. “Was just wrapping up.”

“Oh.” The narrowing of her lips was barely discernible as she ventured a quick glance in Wraith’s direction. Then a double take, looking closer into her expression. “You… you have dead eyes.”

Wraith remained silent, taken aback. Appearance meant little to her; par for her course was a mere "presentable". Catching herself in a mirror only muddied the already turbulent waters of her identity. She’d just as soon go without a glance. But, of course, that meant she had not a clue as to what Wattson meant.

“Pardon,” Wattson whispered when Wraith didn’t answer. “You’ve been here all night?”

“Yeah.” Her mouth was so dry her tongue felt like a tennis ball. Wattson’s gait was tired, her eyes distant. A far cry from the insatiable bundle of affection Wraith had grown to yearn for. She knew better - even the most radiant souls couldn’t shine their light forever. Natalie deserved this moment of vulnerability, to rest that once perpetually cheerful countenance.

But Wraith loathed to know just why the girl came before her so subdued. It didn't matter that her own life was endangered by some faceless conglomerate. Any pain born from the knowledge that someone wanted her dead paled in comparison to the knowledge that Natalie's light was clouded because of her. The way Wattson looked her way now... it clawed into her belly with a sinking feeling. Vibrant blue eyes had lost their spark.

Still, Wraith had to ask - just to hear it, just to have Wattson admit to her face why she left. She deserved that much. Then she could continue her life in shame, while Wattson could move on with vindication. It was a better deal than anything Wraith had been able to offer her thus far - quite possibly the best deal she could give at all, at this point.

The girl would be safe while Wraith would meet her eventual fate. Without the girl, her will to fight will certainly be the first to die. Maybe another Wraith could give a different Wattson something more. But this time, in this dimension, she was stripped of that chance. Just as she had been stripped of everything else she could have been.

Wraith peeled her lips open. She needed to ask. To seal the deal. She kept her voice quiet and devoid of emotion. Didn’t want to make the girl feel guilty for her choice. But the question that left her lips was more open-ended than she planned.

“What’ve you been up to all this time?” A _what_ instead of a _why_. She was only prolonging the inevitable.

A tiny wince crinkled the edges of the girl’s eyes. “I volunteered to help inspect the arena. It’s a very intensive process. I performed my own tests as well and implemented a few additional failsaves to make sure everything stays up to code.”

A pause. Wattson kept her gaze low and away from Wraith’s. She could tell: talking about work came easy to the girl, but there was something more on her mind. Something not so easily expressed. Wraith knew the feeling well. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” murmured Wattson.

Wraith’s insides were upended while a pit that swelled in her throat slid down to sit in her gullet. She couldn’t respond. Didn’t know how. Why was she sorry?!

“Are you angry with me?” Wattson asked at length.

Shaking her head, Wraith’s voice rattled weakly from her lips. “No, ‘course not.”

“I was certain y- I was afraid. You... Ajay’s sedative seemed to upset you so. I…" The girl began to gush out her words, but stopped with a grimace and a faint hiss. She lifted her fingers to her head, brushing underneath her bangs. After a breath to settle herself, she whispered, "Je ne sais pas. Something told me I would be of more use to you if I were to work on the arena.”

Wraith's brow crinkled in confusion. “You- What?”

Nearly flinching at the question, Wattson continued, “Please believe me… I’m so sorry.”

“You were in the arena working? All month?” Wraith was merely filling the space with questions as her mind scrambled to process what had been said. Wattson had given her the _why_ that she had so dreaded to hear, but this was not the answer she expected.

“Once I started, there was no time for anything else.” Wattson’s words were still rushed, half-panicked, as if she were trying to plead herself not-guilty. “I had to be sure the arena passed the tests. And I- I wanted to see if I could find any evidence.”

“Wait, slow down.” Her mind was reeling. Wraith had been waiting for Wattson to admit something else entirely as the reason for her disappearance. She had almost _wanted_ the girl to say that she had given up. That she decided to look out for herself. That Wraith wasn't worth the effort. It would have been so much easier that way, had Wattson allowed her to meet her end at ARES’s hand. 

But this girl was still with her, albeit guilt-trodden by some non-existent sin. Wraith’s heart ached for her. 

“Please tell me you took some time off for yourself,” she said to Wattson, who was by now nearly a nervous wreck. That small frame trembled as she wrung out her words.

"There was no time. I- I did want to visit you in the clinic, even though you probably didn’t want to see me. But every time I tried to stop working I couldn’t help but think about what happened. So I continued."

“Nat, you could've... I was never angry with you.” This was worse, _so_ much worse, than what she had imagined. How could she live with herself, knowing Natalie had spent an entire month agonizing over a wrong she never committed? “You’ve done everything for me.”

The girl sat before her with head hung and body rigid with tension. “It will all be for nothing if I can’t prevent it from happening again.”

She slightly lifted her head.

"Wraith, you aren't going back in there, are you?"

"Well… yeah."

"How? After everything, I will not be able to fight you in the ring. But as for the others...” A sharp frown overtook her face. "Wraith, you need to run."

"Run?" she echoed, her own countenance twisting in confusion.

"You can't put yourself in that kind of danger again!"

"Give yourself a little more credit, Natalie." Wraith took the girl's hands in effort to keep her calm. Each desperate proclamation of concern from Wattson tore the rift of guilt in her heart even wider. No, she couldn't live with herself like this. And she had no intention to. It was imperative that Wattson let her go. "You just inspected the ring, right?"

A nod.

"And the arena passed your inspection, right?"

A pouting nod. 

"Then I'm not worried."

Wattson’s eyes glazed over with a glittering sheen. “But I couldn’t find any clues as to how it happened! Why would you go back after you… after-”

“I have no choice. Nat- Listen. We still have our obligations to the Syndicate. Breaking my contract by running away would be just as dangerous, if not more so. You know this.”

She leaned forward as Wattson’s hands began to slip. Wraith scoured her eyes. How could she convince her that this was the easiest way? Surely Wattson would listen to reason.

“I want to get to the bottom of this,” said Wraith as she laced together her next half-truth. “I always knew the games were hiding something from me, and ARES just might be able to give me the answers I’ve been looking for. I’m not going to turn my back on this chance. Can you understand that? …Natalie?”

The girl had pulled away with a shake of the head. “I think, maybe- You’re the one who does not understand.”

“I-”

“You do not realize how much others worry about you.”

Wraith suddenly remembered that moment she returned from the Scavenger Hunt, hobbling off the dropship only to meet scorn and disdain from the other fighters. With a sigh, she muttered, “Like who.”

“Non. Don’t do that. We were all worried. Octavio and I. Ajay. And don't forget Pathy.”

“No need to remind me about him. He doted over me the entire time. That’s a special case though. If Rev were to lose his hat, Path would be the first to volunteer for the eulogy.”

She offered a half-hearted grin, to which Wattson gave her own pained smile. “You really don’t get it.”

The girl would not give in, she could tell. Wraith averted her eyes with another tired exhale, "No, I guess I don’t. There’s no good reason why you should have to do all this for me. But if I absolutely need to leave the games, I will. So don't bother worrying. There's just an opportunity here that I think is worth the risk. Might be no other way to get the truth.”

That hurt smile had already been weak, but now it crumbled away altogether at those words. “Wraith… Things are different now.”

Wattson’s hand drifted upward to cover her own heart.

“I always saw you- How you never seemed to be around, with me or anyone else. It’s admirable how strong you are, but it’s so, so worrisome as well. I was taught that sometimes the strongest ones are those crying out the most for help. Always hoped you would come to me. But you never did. Even when-”

Her voice faltered; the hand at her chest knotted into the fabric of her suit. Though she still was facing Wraith, her eyes seemed to be staring past her into a distance unfathomable. 

“It was- It was when I saw you in the Epicenter, drowning in your own blood... I felt something break inside. Maybe you would be able to understand, if our roles were reversed. If I were the one to fall...”

That image joined forces with every labored word leaving those lips, and together they rent Wraith’s heart to pieces. She couldn’t take this. Her plan was backfiring. A gloved hand shot forward, burrowing into a puffy sleeve before pulling her desperately into an embrace. Her voice spilt into Wattson’s ear, rough with emotion. “That’s _not_ going to happen. I promise you, Natalie.”

The reciprocating wave of affection crashed down on Wraith so suddenly she was nearly toppled backwards. Natalie latched onto her like a liferaft, nuzzling into her scarf until her face was safely tucked away in the crook of Wraith's neck.

She never should have expected the girl to let her go when Wraith couldn't let go of Natalie herself. 

Maybe it didn’t matter whether or not she deserved her. Against all reason, to the young woman in her arms, Wraith was family. Maybe it was time to act like it - to do what she could to ease Natalie's suffering until her own time came. This was her decision. As lonely and miserable the road she chose might be, facing it with Natalie just might give her the chance to bask in the light a little longer before her path met its end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> doing timeskips in this manner kinda rubbed against the grain too. oh well, ready to move on at this point.
> 
> thanks for stopping by!


	6. Encore

**Encore**

  
"I thought at least you would believe me, if no one else would."

"Hm?"

"The ghost! You said we would talk about it sometime, yes? Wraith? Are you listening?"

“Sorry. Talk about wh- oh. The ghost. Right."

"Oui." Natalie awaited patiently. Here, mere hours before the game of the week, they sat in each other’s company in Natalie’s old home. She was at her workbench, pylon half-disassembled before her. Wraith lounged nearby in the nook of a window.

It was a previous battle Natalie was referring to.

All season long, Wraith had managed to avoid the labs from which the rift of the void continued to spew - much like the rift of guilt that continually filleted her heart. But during a recent match, with Natalie on her team nonetheless, her squad’s path had led through the small development as they scurried away from a rapidly closing ring. 

That was when the girl had mentioned the ghost. At first, Wraith had coolly brushed it off as nothing. Natalie persisted regardless, but it wasn’t until she had uttered the phrase “dead eyes” did realization click in Wraith’s head. It wasn’t just a conversational story; Natalie _knew_ this apparition of hers was somehow connected to Wraith. 

She had been ready to end the conversation with an “I promise you, Natalie,” yet Wraith stopped herself seconds after those words had left her lips. With a silent self-rebuke, she had relented to hear the story, someday.

Wraith gave her promises too easily, and even more easily were they broken. Shards of those shattered in the past always whirled about in the blender of her mind. Never had she made Natalie a promise that she'd been able to keep.

The pre-Hunt promise to keep herself safe was long forfeit; the later promise that she would not let Natalie fall was shredded to ribbons when she had heard the fateful words “Wattson’s down.”

Natalie had been right, back during their hiatus reunion upon the firing range. Proven when Wraith had stumbled into Mirage’s makeshift med-bay, eyes captured by the sight of her battered, unconscious friend. That was the moment she’d finally understood what Natalie had been trying to say. 

And as if it were possible, she felt more strongly for the girl than ever bef-

“Wraith,” came Natalie’s tickled voice. “You seem rather... disconnected.”

She had been tinkering with a circuitboard as she spoke, and Wraith’s eyes were settled on her hands as she pulled a wire from its housing in punctuation of her words. Wraith exhaled with an amused huff.

“Yeah, guess I’m out of it today.”

“But I think you know what I’m talking about, do you not?”

Natalie had been describing with whimsical images the dead-eyed ghost that had confronted her in Singh’s abandoned lab. Wraith was watching her tools spark and twist about the interceptor’s innards while she spoke. Only trace phrases and disjointed words had survived the journey from Natalie’s lips to Wraith’s mind. A frantic apparition. White skin, white eyes. Short shocks of black hair. Goading Nat into active, exposed wiring.

A frightening enough story within normal circumstances, but it was Natalie’s underlying implications that set her ill at ease. Something had happened back then that she was not speaking of.

“If you’re asking whether or not I remember?” Wraith ventured. “No, I don’t.”

She tried to keep her stares subtle from where she was seated. But the rivulets of her friend’s scar flowed with a powerful current that swept her gaze down the exposed neck. With a chance shift of Natalie’s head, Wraith was caught. She flinched under that glance and sharply turned her attention down to the cool beverage sitting between her twiddling fingers. Who knew? Maybe she _was_ the one who had chased a panicked young Natalie into a bundle of electrical wires that could’ve easily ended her life then and there. If only she owned that coveted gift known as Memory.

“Oh, mon amie,” Natalie turned away from her workbench and with smooth steps she was at Wraith’s side by the window. “This was not her doing.”

“But it could've been me-"

"No. This," she lifted her hand in a subtle gesture to her own scar, "is a different story. Perhaps for a different time. As for my ghost…"

Natalie tilted her head with a thoughtful purse of the lips. Those deep eyes of hers began to dart about, studying every inch of Wraith’s face. Under such intensity, Wraith could only maintain contact for trace instants at a time. Her own icy blues fluttered between her drink and her companion like a metronome.

The softness of Natalie's complexion, the proximity of her sharing the small alcove - Wraith held herself still as a statue to counter the fluttering she felt about within. Intently did Natalie explore her features without so much as a single touch. 

She began to wonder what exactly the girl was looking for in her. There were secrets still buried there, the worst of which she wasn’t sure Natalie was ready to discover - such as the truth about old man Nox.

It was a truth that was found to be less than a hard pill to swallow, and more like a fresh scar not ready to be reopened. Wraith was almost afraid to speak of it, but she knew she would have to eventually. She could only wait until Natalie was ready.

A pensive hum grounded Wraith’s attention, and she looked up in time to see the young woman sitting back with a shake of the head.

“I am certain it wasn’t you.”

“You can tell?” She shouldn’t have been surprised. Through the increasing time they had spent together over the course of the season, Natalie had grown quite perceptive of the Others, and how they affected Wraith’s focus and moods. A strange juxtaposition: she could read the shadows of alternate worlds better than she could read people from her own dimension.

“I can see her in you, yes, but there’s a difference. You seem more alive than she was.”

“Aliv-? Oh.” Wraith recalled a phrase Natalie had used more than once. “The dead eyes.”

“Oui. She was a forgotten memory until I first saw you during hiatus. You... looked almost as lost as she was.”

Unprompted, Natalie leaned closer. Every instinct within her told Wraith to lean back, to keep the space even between them. But with barely audible whispers of encouragement from beyond, she stayed. Natalie seemed ready to lift a hand towards her face, at which she held her breath.

“It makes me glad to see the color in your eyes again.” The young woman’s voice was so soft, almost as enamored as her deep blue gaze. She could easily let herself melt away there, but- that wouldn't be right...

Wraith could nearly see an unspoken request in Natalie’s stare, the nature of which shook her to her core. How she wanted to give in, but she had been selfish enough already. She couldn’t let this become more than it already was. Not with the cloud of demise still towering over her from beyond the horizon. 

“Do you remember anything else about her?” She asked quickly, to goad Natalie back on track. When the young woman merely blinked at her, stalling her approach, Wraith added as a buffer, “What was she outfitted in?”

Perhaps immersing themselves in the subject would distract from what this moment could become.

The Voidwalker was Wraith's primary suspect. Ever since her tranquilizer-induced nightmare, months ago, Wraith had begun to regard Blasey in a different light. An angrier light. She was a woman driven by vengeance, after all. An important detail Wraith had suppressed since Blasey had driven her to freedom. With this new light, it suddenly seemed plausible that the pilot would find reason to attack a young engineer tinkering in the labs that had once been her prison. 

Yet the thought of dead eyes wavered her suspicion. The Voidwalker’s countenance had burned with an intensity that was anything but lost.

“She wore a mask.” Natalie said after retracting with a dulled gaze, “A respirator-type mask, je pense... And she was bound by many frayed tubes, like she had broken free from an experiment."

So, no. It wasn’t Blasey. But then who…?

"Was there a straight jacket?" Wraith asked softly, though she wished she hadn't when she saw a worried crease strike across Natalie's brow. The implications of Wraith's suggestion obviously sat ill with her, feeding questions in the girl's mind for which it wasn't the time to discuss.

But Natalie didn't pry, instead giving a sad shake of the head. "It almost seemed to be a personal life support, but with a severed connection."

There was nothing in her memory that Wraith could pin down with such a description. Someday, she might venture out into the abyss, like the Voidwalker had, and witness firsthand the plethora of the Others. In this moment however, she gave little more than a defeated shrug.

"I hope she is alright," mumbled Natalie.

"What do you mean? Didn't she attack you?"

"I was frightened. Just a- comment dit-vous... I was just a teenager. Looking back, it could have been a misunderstanding."

"What exactly did she do?"

"You know the chair in the lab, yes?"

"Yeah," breathed Wraith, a little too quietly. Natalie's eyes widened.

"Eh, pardon- Yes, of course." An anxious tick overtook her gait. She graced her hand over Wraith's once-bad knee, but then pulled back as she awkwardly shuffled to her feet. "I suppose I should have known better.”

She meant that in more ways than one. Wraith watched her return to work, knowing Natalie’s words came easiest when her hands were busied. The pylon was calling for her attention.

"I was playing with the circuitry within its components and something was activated. Just for a moment. She appeared in the chair with a flash of what I thought was electricity." Natalie continued. Then, a sad chuckle. "It excited me so, I jumped in front of her for a better look. That must have been what scared her."

"So she attacked."

"Un peu, not exactly. She grabbed me, yes. But she was panicked too. It was like, petite peu comme, I was a lifeline to her. As if I could save her." With softening words, Natalie seemed to be drifting away under the waves of memory. Wraith could almost envy her ability to see into her own past. "I had no way of knowing who she was, Wraith."

There was an apology there, buried deep in the tones of her voice.

"In hindsight, it was obvious she was only desperate. But I had thought she wanted to... j'sais pas, strangle me. I was off balance, and she kept grabbing and pushing, so… When we came within reach of the exposed wires, I fought back."

"Oh."

Natalie's hands stilled their work, and Wraith saw the fingers rub together. "I grabbed a live wire and struck her with it. -I know, Wraith. Reckless. I could have killed us both."

"What happened then?" Wraith was turned away from the window now, leaned forward and engrossed in Natalie's words. 

"Her gauntlet absorbed the entire current. It must have overloaded the circuits, because she disappeared just like how she arrived."

"And that was it?"

"Oui. I have visited the lab since, and even tried bringing her back but..."

"But it was probably a freak stroke of luck that brought her here in the first place." 

Natalie still faced the interceptor when she nodded in response, but her hands lay limp in her lap.

"Don't feel bad, Nat." Wraith blurted. "Some of the Others can be a lot more violent. If she was gonna hurt you, you did the right thing to protect yourself."

"And if she wasn't...?"

"I- ...I don't know. But it sounds like, maybe, she was already a lost cause."

Natalie's posture tensed. She spared a quick look over her shoulder in Wraith's direction. A short, somber glance to show her sadness at such a sentiment. Wraith could only give empty reassurances.

"Our alternate realities are infinite, you know. Out there, we've died just as many times as we've survived. No sense in getting caught up on a single instance."

"I just hope one of my 'Others' was able to save her."

"Believe me, Natalie. Every alternate of mine that's had the chance to meet one of yours has already been saved."

Natalie's expression when she next turned shattered her protective walls. Wraith sat vulnerable in the spotlight of the other’s quiet stare. Cornered even, in the absence of any response from Natalie.

 _“Might’ve overstepped,”_ the Others had begun into interject. Some overridden with the same anxiety that plagued Wraith, others offering the comfort of reason. _“Calm down.”_

_“Right after rejecting her too…”_

_"Think she'll freak out?"_

_“Nat’s been waiting on you for this.”_

_"She's gonna freak out."_

Leaving her cup on the windowsill, Wraith hoisted herself to her feet. She fumbled for her banner in a feigned search for the time. Anything to distract herself from those damned voices. Her eye contact with Natalie had served as a plug to stifle her words, but when that connection was severed, so was the blockage broken.

"Drop time's coming up. I should probably-"

"Wraith."

She froze along the track that would have led her through and out of Natalie's home. 

“We can go to the match together. Stay, if you’d like.”

True, there was no reason for her to leave. No other place to go. She was already combat ready, synapses fully bound and gauntlet primed. It wasn’t like she would go back to her own place before drop time. It was nothing more than a soulless, Apex-assigned rental that had become a litmus to show Wraith how bleak her own life had become. 

She lowered her head in silent resignation to her friend’s request. 

After all, in comparison to her own dusty cellar, Natalie's place actually felt like a home. And it seemed her host was intent on Wraith learning to see it as just that. A second home. A place of comfort and quiet left to the girl by her father. 

Natalie obviously wanted to share this place with family once again, but Wraith was as insecure as ever about playing the part. Hers was only a temporary role - not that she didn't wish it were more. Sharing a home with Natalie was an idea so gleaming with light, she almost felt like she could follow it like a beacon towards a happy future together with her.

Yet despair remained in her mind. Silently it had rooted itself within her as deep as bedrock from the knowledge that the next Hunt, whenever it arose, could easily be her last. For months the root had festered and fed on the fear of endangering Natalie, should Wraith struggle to keep herself alive. She felt it in her core weaving its vines through her ribs. No doubt her hunters had been watching her all season long, taking notes, perfecting their next execution. Several times she had been named Champion, and several times they had passed her over. The wait was as agonizing as the bare wound in her heart. 

So, while she could, Wraith gorged herself on whatever happiness she could glean from her remaining time with Natalie. Even during battle, cute quips and heartfelt thank yous from the girl brought desperate smiles to Wraith’s face. But her responses were weak and… tentative. Underneath the harvest of happiness, her own sadness still wormed about in the soil. 

Natalie's hand tucked itself into hers. Wraith was drawn again to the present as she was pulled towards the kitchen.

"Relax. Here, maybe you would rather have some tea?" Natalie was already busying herself with the fix-ins. 

"I'm okay," she mumbled.

"Wraith…" The girl was preparing to mix her own beverage. Yet after a soft moment of silence, she pushed the herbs and spices away to make room for herself to sit on the countertop. She smiled down upon her with a face so kind Wraith felt like she could melt away if exposed for too long. Her own grin was offered in turn, meek and unconvincing. She hated herself for not being able to give more. Today wasn't the first day Natalie appeared to seek something further with her, but there was a feeling in her gut that told her it might be one of the last.

How she wished Natalie was her future.

“You overthink things, no?” Her voice lilted with the smile. At Wraith’s weak shrug, she continued. “You’ve saved me too, Wraith. Even if you do not believe it. With everything that’s happened, I don’t think I would have been able to handle it without you.”

A skeptical chuckle escaped Wraith. “You’re strong, Nat. You would've done fine without me.”

An absolute truth, in her mind. Wraith had hardly done more than watch Natalie's recovery from the sidelines. She offered her own help, yes, as inconsequential as it was. But oh did she yearn to help the girl escape from it all. To run, like Natalie had once suggested.

If she had accepted that initial offer, months ago, could they have avoided all this suffering entirely?

Nat was giving her that signature pout as her legs dangled freely over the edge of the countertop.

It was far too late to run now. Wraith had spent the entirety of the season helplessly watching hardship forge Natalie into someone... someone not unrecognizable, but still unfamiliar. Someone Wraith had begun to regard with awe just as much as adoration.

And whenever Natalie’s piercing eyes softened when they fell upon her, Wraith couldn’t help but yearn for her with a tangible pain. It was an addiction she was unable to feed, let alone sate. 

It was near time for them to leave. Following Wraith’s pointed glance at a nearby clock, Natalie sighed and hopped off the counter to finish her pre-match routine. But she paused at the entry to the kitchen, barely turning her head back over her shoulder. 

“I’ve been very happy, being able to share so much with you. But, I think, it makes me even happier when you speak your feelings. You know you can talk to me, no matter what.”

Wraith looked away. “I know.”

She knew… She knew she couldn’t. This dimension was already too far off track. Doomed from the moment she had attempted to fill Blasey's shoes. 

Natalie exited the room without another word.

Wraith remained quietly where she sat with eyelids closed in attempt to block out all distractions. There were only a couple weeks left in the season. Time for steeled nerves and sharpened minds. She still had to at least _attempt_ to perform well for her last remaining games.

But Natalie was more important. 

The girl's presence continued to force its way into the crevices of her mind. From another room: light footsteps, clinking of metal, swiping zippers. Try as she might to shut it out, Natalie remained. It would be time to leave shortly.

Today's was going to be a tough match. 

Ever since Natalie had recovered enough from the prowler attack to rejoin the games, she had dazzled all with her newfound ferocity. Rapidly did she become a new fan-favorite for the viewers throughout the Outlands. And finally, thanks to the previous week’s win, she had secured her own Championship. 

All the while, Wraith admired her from afar. With each week that put them on separate teams, she couldn't help the multiple glances sent her friend's way during transit to the games. Her looks were short but frequent, and unfortunately all too obvious to those lucky enough to catch her.

Like Witt. He had understood immediately, somehow, how she felt towards Natalie. It didn't help. Not a word was ever said on the subject, but his taunting faces had her hoping for the opportunity to end him before her own time came. She didn't need his prying or encouragements to pursue something more with Natalie. Not when she was intent on jumping into the maw of ARES when next they rear their head. Wraith was ready to die satisfied with the knowledge that Natalie called her family.

At least, she _thought_ she could die satisfied. What more could she ask for than what she had here, in this moment? Side-by-side did she now walk with Natalie through a quiet Solace town. The girl kept oh so close to her, matching her gait stride for stride. It didn’t matter that they were geared for battle, on their way to be picked up by the shadiest organization and transported to the most dangerous sport in the Outlands. She should be happy for moments like this. Moments that Natalie continued to offer her, day after day. Yet Wraith still craved more.

She had never thought herself capable of feeling for someone this way. 

Arriving at the dropship and checking in for their matchups left a bleak outlook on the remainder of the day. Wraith felt a grumble crawling up her throat for release when she saw the roster of squads. She and Natalie would have to part ways for this match. 

The girl merely gave her a regrettable smile as she joined her group, leaving Wraith to sulk. 

She’d certainly grown way too obvious with her emotions. Mirage lounged nearby, giving an all too blatant cough to catch Wraith’s attention. She shot him a glare loaded with buckshot, to which he gave his own shifty shit-eating grin. Nothing was said, as usual. There was nothing that could be said, here on the dropship, that she couldn’t communicate through a mag of hot lead down on the battlefield. Though, the knife seated in her sheathe was certainly inviting. Too inviting, after watching how the man’s eyebrows wiggled like a low-frequency oscilloscope. 

She tore herself out from under his stare, marveling at how she could even consider him one of her closest friends. Perhaps she could boot him to free up the spot for someone slightly less insufferable, like Silva. Wouldn’t be hard to do so if Witt kept up his perpetual jeering. 

Of course, she was reminded of just why she appreciated him when she skulked over to her drop pad. The constant murmurs in the back of her mind had been silenced from the impact of his taunts. It was almost amusing to imagine the dozens of her alternates, staring flabbergasted at the man who had perfected the art of attention-seeking. 

She soaked in the fleeting, short-lived moment of silence. Nothing to do now but wait. Her own squad was a rollercoaster: Path and old man Nox. Big yes, big no.

The doctor was relaxing in his own swamp-tinted cave with a last cup of what she didn’t believe was coffee. The robot, on the other hand, spotted her and slid into formation astride. 

“Hi, friend!”

“Hey.” Her face softened and she gave him a nudge, her elbowpad clinking against his. 

Path’s emotions lit up at the contact. His broad shoulders bunched up as his hands twiddled before his heart-filled chest. Bravely, he reached and offered Wraith a gentle pat on the head in return. She rolled her eyes, not unkindly. But that only gave a further boost to his courage. His metal hand shifted to the messy bun atop her head and gave a quick squeeze.

With a surprised chuckle, she batted his hand away, “What the hell, Path?” 

The robot snatched his hand back with an innocent hum. “For good luck! And to cheer you up, friend. I hope!”

She gave him a smile to rest his digital soul, then with a shake of her head, turned her gaze elsewhere. Him she would miss.

Her eyes crossed Natalie’s, standing on the other side of the staging area. Even with the distance between them, Wraith could see the sparkle in her gaze as she lifted a hand to half-conceal an acute smile. Ah- so she had witnessed Path’s antic. Wraith buried her face in her scarf in embarrassment. 

_“It’s him,”_ a whisper in her ear from beyond. Wraith stilled, eyes shifting about as she waited for the voice to elaborate. Him who?

Path stood beside her ever faithful, bouncing about to test the lube in his joints. Mirage had joined Natalie, though his conversation was divided between several of the others - namely Silva and Gibraltar. 

“Who?” Wraith whispered under her breath.

_“He’s watching you.”_

Her attention fell upon Revenant. An inhuman tower, emerging from the shadows of his own alcove. His eyes were not upon her though, but rather seated in the ground as he strolled into position on his drop pad. Right next to Natalie.

Wraith’s face darkened into a maddening stare, before a _“Not him”_ filtered through her mind. 

The sensation was back in full force - someone’s eyes upon her - like a charge tower’s static wave eroding her skin. Wraith shifted her attention about, scanning for any contact until she fell upon a beady pair peering out from under a bushy brow. 

Of course it was the old man. Caustic still sat in his own corner, obscuring his face with a long draw from his mug as his eyes bore into Wraith. She gave him nothing but a scoff of contempt. She did not fear him, for she knew him better now for what he really was - as she was certain he was aware of. Wraith loathed his guts. 

Her steely glare suddenly wavered, and Wraith pulled her eyes away from the doctor as he finished his drink and stood to equip the rest of his gear. A thought she had not previously considered now raced throughout the maze in her mind. Her time with Natalie must have caught the old man’s attention. And though she was not afraid, his attention was the last thing she wanted after seeing what he had done to Crypto. She had to find a way to tell Natalie the truth about Nox, before her own time ran out.

They were descending into the arena now, told by the squad banners lighting up within the ship.

Wraith’s attention drifted up to look at Wattson's decorated frame, and suddenly she felt weak. A cold, lonely feeling ate away at her from the stomach out. She was well prepared for the match at hand, but her fingers grew numb. The sensation clawing from within her organs nearly felt like starvation. 

Her eyes left the banner and settled on the young woman in person. 

Natalie was ready, awaiting patiently for her squad's pad to drop. But then she, too, shifted her eyes to meet the one looking at her. 

Wraith took courage from the ever-so-delicate smile, but even from a distance, she could see the sadness upon her countenance. 

_"She knows."_

_"You both know."_

Wraith shuffled uneasily on the pad as Caustic’s heavy footsteps came into place beside her. This wasn’t nervousness, or even adrenaline. This was a premonition.

The drop pads peeled open and lowered the roster into the atmosphere. It was time. Wraith watched the warm tones of the Solace arena scurry by beneath the ship as Path, their master, pointed gleefully toward the approaching Rig. 

She only vaguely heard the other fighters squawking at each other, hyping up the game-to-be. A poignant “See ya down there, abuelita!” reached her from Silva, but she paid him no mind. Breathlessly, Wraith waited.

Then she heard it.

_“This is wrong.”_

Oh no.

Her heart halted in her chest, but Wraith couldn’t react further before Path grabbed her wrist in his excitement and yanked her after him into the jump. 

“We’re going to the Rig! Cables and ziplines everywhere. My favorite!”

“Path-!” Wraith’s voice burst from her lungs in frustration as she tumbled in freefall.

No no no… This better not be happening now.

She caught a glimpse of the ship above before righting her flight path. One team, directly behind them. It was Silva, of course, with Crypto and the well-adjusted rookie Loba on his flank. No sign of anyone else. Wraith kept her eyes up for as long as possible, searching desperately for Natalie’s silhouette. 

This wasn’t good.

Seconds later they touched down upon the Rig, with no sign of the other fighters except for their accompanying squad. No time to fight, but no luxury to run. 

Wraith burst through the first set of double doors that stood before her, snatching up her starting weapon and, fortunately enough, a decently charged body shield module. Her teammates seemed to be well enough off as well; Path cleared out an adjacent building while old man Nox secured the charge tower for himself. Greedy bastard. 

The opposing squad was ready in no time, laying down fire upon the central platform, skillfully shooting away Nox’s traps. Wraith almost wanted to let them kill him, to run off on her own in search of Natalie. 

Thanks to a boost from Silva, their enemies rapidly closed in on the charge tower. She would have left then and there, if it weren’t for Path’s brash decision to swing in from the flank. Between the robot’s surprise attack and the doctor loosing his noxious bomb, the battle before them was almost over before it even began. Wraith supported from afar. No way in hell would she fight anywhere near that gas. 

Crypto and Loba were the first to be incapacitated, sliding off the central platform while Silva distracted and dazzled with his elusive antics. A few taps of Wraith’s trigger, and his squadmates were eliminated. 

“Oh whoaaa, I see how it is!!” Silva bellowed at her from the tower. Path was recharging behind cover when the speedster launched himself into Caustic’s face, successfully shoving the old man off the platform. 

Wraith’s Wingman was out, shaky hands firing unsteady shots that Silva easily ducked and sidestepped. And then, with enviable accuracy, he let his Hemlock free. 

One burst was enough to shatter her shield. Clenching lungs forced a loud hiss through her teeth. Near full panic overtook her as she ducked and rolled backwards off the building. Scrambling for a battery cell, she barricaded herself in the building while plugging in her module for a recharge. Silva could easily push in and finish her off - and she was certain her protection was gone. 

“C’mon, dude, what kinda aim was that?!” She heard his muffled voice propelling closer. “Gettin’ arthritis now?”

Like hell would he be the death of her. Wraith growled when she heard his metal feet land on the rooftop, but then the whistle of a grapple interrupted his advance. 

“Don’t forget about me, thank you!” Path hollered as Octane was reengaged by her teammates. Wraith scrambled from her building, fully shielded, and followed the gunfire down into the pit surrounding the tower platform. 

“Attention. First blood.” The announcer finally addressed the deaths of Octane’s teammates. Holding her breath, Wraith took a quick glance at her banner to check the fighter count. 

No more than two down. A sigh of relief. 

“Be advised. Scavenger Hunt rules are in effect.”

That relief shattered. 

An overwhelmed Octane bolted from the scene, though Wraith’s hesitation (as well as the doctor's) allowed him the chance to loot his teammates’ calling cards on his way. Path pursued - unwilling to give up, undaunted by the announcer’s words. 

“Your bounty is the currently instated Champion.”

No, no, NO!

“All squads are heretofore deemed unofficial. Grand Prize will be funded by our local sponsors. Happy hunting.”

What, was ARES not brave enough to show their face at all now? Wraith seethed with rage. Natalie.

She had to find Natalie. 

The first ring was not terribly distant, herding the fight towards the center of the arena. But where to even start her search?

...It didn’t matter where, she just needed to begin. Wraith spun to follow her unseen path. 

_“Watch out for th-”_

She picked the wrong road. Caustic was behind her, and upon turning she walked directly into his open hand. 

The man easily encircled his fingers around her throat, lifting her to where barely the tips of her boots scraped against the concrete below. 

“This is all your fault,” he simmered, voice thick with poison.

Wraith reached for her knife, but her hands were stilled when she saw the fingers of his other hand enclose around a primed gas tube. 

“Don’t do anything foolish now. You know your transgression.” Caustic began to step forward, carrying her backwards with a single hand. Her eyes were locked upon the lever of his noxious bomb, knowing the fumes within could kill her in seconds. For good. 

But then concrete dropped away beneath her toes. Caustic held her at arm’s length to dangle over the open edge that lay beneath the charge tower's platform. The gas was now the least of her problems. She couldn’t breathe at all.

The old man glared her down with a violent fury begging to be released. “If only you had died as planned, they would not have felt the need to take matters into their own hands. But I suppose I'm to blame as well. I underestimated her empathy... but hopefully our recent events have helped file away such trivialities. She will learn to prioritize properly in the future. You, however, are still a hindering factor.”

Wraith gripped the man’s wrist as her hatred for him seared deep into her soul like a white-hot brand. So it wasn't even ARES that sought her life. It was him.

Nox held his poised canister an inch closer to her, warning her to stay still. “I know you will come to understand. We seem to share a common goal in keeping Ms. Paquette safe. She somehow believes you care about her. And if this is true, surely you will not obstruct my efforts in her better interest. A bright mind like that must be freed from _any_ threats to its brilliance. Don’t you agree, Ms. Senior Science Pilot?”

She didn’t want to believe him, but it _was_ her fault. Wraith couldn’t deny that. She had known all along. This was why she had made her choice. But if she were to let go now, with the truth still untold, would Natalie truly be saved?

“Give me your banner,” Caustic demanded. “I will take manners back into my own hands, and get her away from these perpetrators.”

Wraith almost complied. Without her, after all, there would be no reason for Natalie to be in danger. And there was no doubt Caustic held Natalie's safety foremost in his mind. He would find a way to save her, with the magnitude of his sphere of influence. 

When Wraith lowered her hand to her banner, she saw how the dark wrinkles of the doctor’s sunken eyes crinkled with a sadistic smile. Shame flooded her from head to toe, and she dropped her hands limp at her sides. She couldn’t bear the thought of this man being the one to watch over Natalie, manipulating and molding her to his will. Her hands balled into fists and her eyes darkened upon his. Wraith knew he would kill her; without the Games' protection, the noxious gas terrified her. But she couldn't give herself up to him so freely. 

Kunai was in hand, but before either could react, a grapple clamped down on Caustic’s hand poised at his gas canister. His arm was jerked away from the bomb, and the old man dropped Wraith in his sudden panic. 

The corner of the concrete edge came up and smacked her in the ribs, hard. Wraith could barely catch herself - arms flat against the ground - as the impact nearly knocked the breath clean from her lungs. Gasping and grunting, she clawed for purchase. But there was little she could do with the edge pressed against her upper torso.

More than half her body was hanging in the open air beneath the Rig. Wraith held herself rigid with her arms only a weakening anchor to keep her from falling.

“Path-” She choked out as her limbs slipped inch by inch. No handholds to pull herself up; no footfalls to hoist herself to safety. She was at the mercy of gravity. Desperately did she cling to the sloped concrete, even as she was dragged into despair when the report of Path’s Havoc dwindled into nothing. Wraith hung her head, pressing her face against the concrete for just a trace extra friction to keep herself grounded. “Path!”

She cried out into the silence, hoping for help but knowing she was alone. But then a pause - why was she still even holding on? This was the road she had chosen all along.

Except her body wasn't ready. Her arms still lay stiff against the ground to keep her aboard, but she knew her grip would not last. It didn't really matter anyway. 

Then came strong hands that locked around her upper arms, and easily lifted her up and away from the open air beneath the Rig.

Wraith was ready to struggle until she heard her name upon a synthesized voice. What followed was a bone-crushing hug. 

“You scared me, friend.” Pathfinder held her a moment longer before returning her to solid ground. “I didn’t realize you two weren’t helping me chase Octane!”

Adrenaline held her vocal chords tied. Wraith clenched her quaking hands as she stumbled over to Caustic’s disposed body. She wasted no time diving through his equipment and reserves, looting his banner for good measure. Wraith had an idea of what he intended to do with hers. Perhaps she could turn the table and do the same with his. 

“Something’s very wrong, isn’t there?” Her companion asked.

“Yes, Path. This is wrong. Very, very wrong.” She didn’t even look back as she began to run. “Thanks for the assist, but we need to move. Lost too much time already.”

“Time for what? The ring’s not that far. What’s so wrong?”

She couldn’t escape his questions as he easily maintained her speed. 

“Wraith, if you tell me what’s going on, I will believe you. Is it about the Scavenger Hunt?”

“Yes.” Wraith angled their road to the southwest, aiming for the Capacitor. She had a feeling… maybe she could find Natalie in or near the labs, where they had connected before - more times than once. “They’re trying to kill Natalie.”

“Wraith, we do that for a living.”

She skidded to a stop at the eastern path into the Capacitor, scanning the area for any movement. Wraith sighed, “This is different. You remember how bad I was after the first Hunt. The champion won't get pulled out of the arena by elimination. They keep them in until they're dead. No protection.”

Distant gunfire echoed off the walls of the region, bouncing about, distorting the source. Wraith searched the skies for stray bullets, anything to give her a direction.

“Like Loba’s missions?” Asked Path, his emotions leaning towards the less-than-jovial. “Like when Wattson was hurt?”

Wraith nodded, seeing the tears begin to decorate his chest. 

“I don’t like this game anymore.”

“Me neither,” she mumbled. 

The gunfire was growing closer, and Wraith finally spotted the bullets darting about from the Capacitor overlook. 

“There,” she pointed with her weapon. 

“Heard that.”

Wraith slid down the concrete slope, keeping her profile low and behind cover as frequently as possible. She held her pistol trained upon the overlook, but she hadn’t the scope to make out the details. “See who it is?”

No time to waste on these squabbles if Natalie wasn’t present. Path retrieved his rifle and focused his optics. 

“I see Mirage.”

Wraith held her breath, hoping against the odds.

“A fence just went up! Wattson’s there!”

“Dammit!” Wraith righted herself and flung herself out of cover, hesitating for a gut-splitting moment when she heard Revenant’s bloodthirsty howl barrel into the Capacitor.

She had a front row view. A fragmentation explosion erupted upon the overlook balcony, and from within the blast was launched a smoking body. A body clothed in orange and dingy white, careening over the edge, flailing through thin air.

Wraith didn't see the impact as Natalie fell and disappeared behind a building below the overlook, but a choked scream followed by sudden silence told her more than she wanted to know.

She was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say goodbye to regular updates...
> 
> and im a week behind on the in-game comics so i feel like i'm writing half blind. trying to shovel out more headcanons before they get disproven by the narrative. the ghost story in particular was one i been thinking a lot about....... was always kinda hoping wattson's scar was tied in some way to the ghost, but then i saw her scar was absent in A Father's Letter so that was out the window...
> 
> anyway enjoy the cliffhanger ,':^)


	7. The Lab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i didn't like that cliffhanger either... wasn't expecting this segment to go off like it did.

**The Lab**

_“Picked the wrong road.”_  
  
Pearlescent eyes bulged wide in shock. 

_“Our alternate realities are infinite, you know."_

_"You said yourself we've died as many times as we've survived."_

"Path, get us over there, NOW!!" Wraith scrambled forward. She could barely hear her own voice over the ramblings of the Others.

A blast of hydraulics from the robot. "Zipline's deployed. Go!"

_“This is just another instance. Don't get too caught up in it."_

_"She died in mine, too."_

_"Looks like this reality's a lost cause."_

Wraith latched onto the cable with knuckles bleached as white as her paper-skinned face and porcelain gaze. Voices battered her brain inside and out for that eternal moment spent careening through the Capacitor valley.

This was the Others' payback, each offering the same hollow, callous reassurances that Wraith had given Natalie only a couple hours earlier. The reassurances that this was just another nightmare dimension. One of many. Not unique. Of no consequence. A bad choice leading down the wrong road, this time. 

_"At least she survives in other worlds, right?"_

Each word cut another chunk out of her turbulent conscience. Their voices were salty, cynical, condescending. Oh, they hated her alright - a feeling she now shared more sharply than ever. 

Natalie was still out of sight behind the building ahead. Halfway there. The game had yet to be called - no announcement blared through the arena, for victory or defeat. Maybe there was a chance...

"Look out above!" Path called from his position behind her, prompting her to raise her eyes to the western Capacitor overlook. 

There they saw the enshrouded silhouettes of Revenant and Mirage clambering over tarp fences to dive down into the valley. The shadows parted from each other during their descent: Revenant to bear down upon what was left of his prey, and Mirage to engage Wraith.

Not even the fear of absent protection could stop her now. She was almost out of cable, but in midair she whipped out her pistol and emptied a rage-filled magazine in Mirage’s direction. 

Her accuracy had returned, shown by a satisfying dispersal of the shadow’s ashes. Finally there came the end of the zipline, and Wraith tumbled onto the rooftop as she watched the remnants swirl back to the balcony directly overhead.

But Revenant was still unaccounted for, until there came a burst of SMG fire from the southern wall of the building Wraith and Path had just landed upon. 

"No-" she choked out and spun to see the bullet spray of an R99 decorate the overarching Capacitor walls like a sprinkler would decorate a fence.

Then came Revenant's essence screeching by as he was recalled to his anchor. 

Hope surged within Wraith and gave wings to her feet.

"Nat!" She cried out as she dashed off the rooftop into the dark alley where she had seen the blast of gunfire. Shallow ruts were dug through the coarse dirt, leading away from the building. "Natalie?!"

_“She’s alive.”_

Wraith breathlessly followed the path, while her teammate remained upon the rooftop as overwatch. The voices were out in force. Hard to hear. Hard to think of _anything_ other than how she could have prevented this.

_"Alive or not, you still failed her.”_

"Here." A weak murmur from ahead finally made it through the din. Wraith strode forward, rounding the corner of a ribbed transformer to find her at last.

_"Forced her to fend for herself, huh."_

Natalie sat slumped shoulder-first against her cover, hardly able to keep herself upright. One hand tightly gripped the R99 in her lap, while the other was cupped over her ear, pressing her hoodless head against the humming electrical box. No doubt its stable vibrations were keeping her grounded. 

Her jacket was tattered; slices from fragmentation shrapnel crosshatched up and down her figure. An overall battered and singed look, but at first glance there seemed to be little more than light burns and lacerations. Her now depleted shield must have absorbed the brunt of the grenade detonation.

 _"This is bad,"_ warned many. Wraith's head twitched with small shakes in a subconscious effort to will the voices away.

Weakly did Natalie roll her eyes up to glance at Wraith. Nothing left to say, nothing more to give than a fading smile before she keeled forward. 

Wraith collapsed to her knees just in time to catch her. The dead weight in her arms was alarming enough, but Natalie's new position revealed to her a sight that flashed a nearly forgotten image before Wraith’s eyes. An image of Natalie in her arms back on Talos… a splotch of red painting the small of her back...

Here in the present, with the absence of her pylon nonetheless, Natalie was vulnerable to much, much more. Her fall had been broken by a wedged stone the size of a frag, and now the object was deep embedded in her back. 

The rock had struck high, seated securely in the muscle between shoulderblade and vertebrae. If she had landed couple more inches in the wrong direction, the offending item could have smashed right through Natalie's spine.

Horror was bubbling up her gullet at the sight, but Wraith fought the urge to remove the object. Controlled bleeding. She could not make the same mistake here that she had made with Revenant in the first Hunt. Pulling his hand from her belly had nearly secured her fate.

Wraith needed to get Natalie to safety first, and get the proper meds together before attempting to remove anything. 

Gunfire sounded from above. With a hiss, Wraith bowed low to cover Natalie's body with her own. 

Thankfully, Path was still on the lookout, returning fire and buying them time. 

"Path!" Wraith called up to him. "I'm getting her into the labs. Can you hold them off?"

She felt Natalie's head shift from where it leaned heavily against her chest. Wraith glanced down to see blue eyes rise in search of their MRVN. "Pathy?"

"Don't worry, dear friends," Path replied. "They'll have to turn me into scrap metal if they want to get to you!"

Wraith squeezed out an agonized smile, before attempting to reposition the one in her arms. "Still with me?"

"Mhm."

First things first. Wraith detached her shield module and switched it out with the girl’s. The tingle of vulnerability was washed over by the small reassurance in seeing a gentle wave of blue caress Natalie’s body. The gesture did not go unnoticed, and rubbery fingers began to thread into her scarf. “Wraith…”

She pulled Natalie close, close enough for her head to rest near Wraith’s neck. "Hold onto me, as tight as you can."

So Natalie tried, but only one arm managed the journey, circling behind Wraith’s body and reaching up to clutch her near the nape of her neck. The other hand, thanks to her wound, was not so easily moved. It remained entangled in Wraith’s scarf. Any further action forced from her a strained whimper. “I’m sorry... Désolée je n'-”

“Shh,” hushed Wraith. The reports of another exchange of gunfire pounded down upon her in lieu of physical bullets. Her shoulders scrunched together in an instinctive effort to shrink her form. Meanwhile, a galloping heartrate jostled her voice. “You’re doing fine; you’ll be alright. Just don’t let go, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Another whine escaped the injured woman: a tiny noise that snagged her emotions with a barbed hook and tore them asunder.

Wraith sucked in one deep breath after another as she readied herself for the task at hand. With a depleted shield, she was far too exposed to carry Natalie through the open. She would have to punch a tunnel with the girl in her arms. A dangerous undertaking, as she did not boast the Voidwalker's control. But she had to try.

Wave upon wave of energy she fed into her gauntlet, far moreso than usual. It would be needed to accommodate two bodies through the portal. But Wraith began to wheeze as it taxed her system. Cold fingers hung from her organs and strung her muscles taut. When she could hardly give any more, she released the primed gauntlet and a faint sphere of prismatic energy formed before her. 

She was already strained. Each breath was like a sword sliding down into her lungs. But there was no time to recover, knowing that she needed to get her charge to safety.

Wraith hooked her gauntlet hand underneath Natalie’s legs and slowly stood with her body cradled in her arms. Natalie tightened her grip around her, allowing Wraith to keep the other hand semi-free. She reached forward and pressed into the multidimensional sphere with that hand until it finally gave way. The blue maw of the void gaped open to swallow both of them whole. 

Wraith sprinted forward, undeterred by the line of Others sprawling out from her flank like dominoes. As a multitude she and her alternates scrambled into the labs, some to meet tragedy, others to finally find freedom. Their worlds were inconsequential to her now, as much as they had tried to convince her that hers was the same.

_"Why are you trying so hard?"_

_"Getting too caught up on this instance."_

No, this reality was _not_ a lost cause. Natalie was alive; she hadn’t failed. Not here, not yet.

_"You'll never get her back."_

"Shut up!" She grumbled with a void-stolen voice.

If there was ever a time to push herself, it was now. Wraith delved deep into the corridors, body tingling as the ravenous gauntlet devoured her sacrificed energy until there was no more. The exit peeled open before her, dumping her at the foot of Singh’s massive portal. 

The drop in speed was too sudden, with the added weight in her arms multiplied fivefold within the rift. Wraith stumbled over buckling feet, twisting her body to shield Natalie from the fall. She landed on her own back, still clutching her friend to herself. The impact of Natalie pressing her into the ground inundated Wraith with a constricting buzz.

Natalie stirred, loosing her hold and slowly pushing herself up. Try as Wraith might to stay her movement, the girl continued to crawl off of her and returned to the tunnel newly made through the void.

“Nat-” 

“Just to be safe,” Natalie whispered, painstakingly laying a single pair of fence posts to guard the exit of the portal. 

Wraith struggled to sit back up as the poles extended and aligned their nodes like clockwork. Though desperate to aid her friend, it became obvious Natalie possessed the foresight Wraith currently lacked. No sooner had the fences come to life did the next poor soul tumble through the portal exit. 

It was Mirage, now caught in the arms of crackling light. The man gasped and shuttered as he fell forward from the sheer power grounding itself within his body. He crumbled away from the reach of the fence, but Wraith leaped forward and caught him by the hair before he hit the ground. Rage had instantly refueled her, fed largely by the disappointment and loathing for herself that permeated her mind. But if Mirage had chosen to play the traitor, she had no problem venting this pent up fury upon him.

She craned his neck back menacingly, pressing the nose of her Wingman underneath his chin. “You really playing their game, Witt?”

His widened eyes flicked between Wraith above and Natalie dragging herself away. She tightened her grip on his hair.

“I’m not gonna waste any time with you. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you if we ever see each other again, then say goodbye.”

“Murderbot already beat you to that threat,” spilled Mirage. His words were rapid, frantic, fearful. “Said if I don’t help him find her, he’ll give me a jump-roping lesson with my intes- in... in’stines. My stuff. You get the idea.” 

Wraith didn’t respond, clearly seeing the sincerity buried beneath all that panic. Her grip slipped from his hair, and her will to harm him slipped soon after that as he pressed a spare medkit to her. The pistol didn’t move.

Mirage explained, “I thought he just really wanted to win, but I get it now. I got it when I saw her hit the ground.” He nodded his head towards Natalie. The watery sheen in his eyes was unmistakable as he placed his hand over hers on the Wingman. His thumb slid into place next to her trigger finger. “I’m just tryin’ to get eliminated right now. Get me off Revenant’s hook. You know I don’t want to see you kids get hurt, so... watch out for each other, okay? I’ll find a way to be useful later."

Pain sketched deepening creases in Wraith’s complexion - creases which turned into crevices when Mirage pressed down upon the trigger and let the bullet pierce his skull. 

_“And you doubted him.”_

Shaking hands now mirrored her quaking lungs. Wraith watched his body crumple backwards to rest, crowned by the splatter of his own blood.

_“Help her!”_

A frustrated mutter from another spurred her back into action. Wraith whirled about, spotting Natalie pull herself further and further into the labs. It was obvious where she wished to go - the safest room within the arena. 

Wraith strode after her, arms extended and ready despite her fingers trembling and unsteady. Pure, unbridled fear was seeping into her core. An unfamiliar feeling.

She had threatened to kill him, only to have him end himself by her hand. Desperately did she hope Mirage still had the Games’ protection.

She had reached Natalie, but when her fingers began to encircle her waist, the girl pulled away. 

“I can stand.” Her voice was held sturdy as iron rebar. Natalie gripped a nearby doorjamb and bravely hoisted herself to her feet, half-stooped with one arm dangling limp from her injured shoulder. Through merely a fleeting glance, those eyes of hers were cold enough to cast a freezing spell over Wraith. “Like any other pain, just takes a little getting used to.”

“Hey...” Wraith whispered after her, near awestruck as Natalie trudged onward. “Wait, hold-!!”

She dashed forward as her companion staggered with a quick shuddering breath. Just barely did she catch Natalie at the elbow of her good arm to steady her. A frustrated, anguished laugh from the girl told Wraith volumes. 

“Natalie, I know you can take care of yourself, but let me help. Let me do this for you.”

“I feel so… silly.” Natalie leaned heavily upon Wraith as they approached the labs’ most secluded room.

Nobody came here anymore. With the security door long broken down, and the audio log a dismissed memory, this room held little interest to the other fighters.

“I think I understand a little better now.” Natalie mumbled, “About you. Why you react to adversity the way you do. And to think of how much time I spent… trying to make you listen.”

Wraith let Natalie sink to her knees underneath cold incandescent light. Any response failed her with her mind preoccupied as it was in digging through Mirage's medkit. If only she had done more… somehow… to keep attention away from Natalie. To spare her this pain. She had already gone through so much more than she deserved in the past few months alone. Wraith gritted her teeth. All that time she had spent with the girl over the course of the season undoubtedly kept her within the crosshairs. This really was all her fault.

With a weak grimace, Natalie tested her immobile shoulder. “How bad is it?”

“Nat...” Wraith quickly slid her hand into the other's to still her movements. She debated with herself on whether or not to tell her, but there was no sense in dodging the truth. “It’s a puncture wound... There’s a fragment in there I need to take out. Please, hold still.”

A painkiller was the first she loaded, but Wraith’s attention was captured by Natalie’s widening eyes. “I didn’t- There’s… Quoi-?”

Her blue eyes dulled and drifted away as she grew faint. Wraith clutched her by the arm when she lost control. “Easy, Nat- Easy!”

A crack in her voice forced her to clench her jaw in the face of Natalie giving in to shock. The girl slumped heavily against the wall, and inch by inch began to tip over. Anchored by Wraith's hand, her head gently came to rest upon on the floor.

Her slurred mumbling, though unfamiliar, carried enough weight to gore into Wraith’s heart. “J'suis tant imbéci-"

“Shush now, I’ve got you.”

Carefully did Wraith coax Natalie’s limp arm from its sleeve, peeling the tattered orange jacket up and away from the stone in her back. Any eye contact was fleeting - Natalie kept her face low and hidden while she focused on each breath. 

“This’ll only hurt for a minute longer,” Wraith desperately tried to console her, though her words certainly didn’t sound convincing.

She pressed the barrel of the loader into position near the base of the stone, and activated the injection. Natalie stiffened with the tiniest of whimpers as the needle pierced through clothing and into inflamed muscle. Out of the corner of her eye, Wraith saw how her friend's fists clenched and pressed into the hard floor in search for grounding. While the injection continued to drain itself into muscle, she returned her hand to the other's. The intensity of Natalie’s grip churned her stomach. 

The Others had been murmuring persistently throughout her subconscious. Many were still bitter, even sarcastic. But one in particular broke out with a warning.

_“They’re watching you.”_

A gasp escaped Wraith. A burst of despair and frustration. But when she spun her head to the semi-barricaded doorway, nothing was there. She growled, “Not helping.”

“Mm-?”

“Don’t mind me, Nat.” Was it bad enough that she was being shredded to ribbons from the inside, did the Others have to begin taunting her as well?

The painkiller was fully discharged. After ejecting the emptied needle and reloading with the medication, Wraith took a deep breath. Now the hardest part. She ghosted her arm up Natalie’s spine, preparing the girl for what was to come as she rested her fingers near the stone.

“This’s got to come out. You ready?”

Natalie only squeezed her eyes more tightly shut.

Path’s voice suddenly blared over the comms. “Wraith! I’m low on supplies! Revenant’s playing very smart. I do not think I can withstand another push.”

“Okay just- Okay. Hold on a little longer, Path,” Wraith pleaded, feeling her eyes begin to sting at the sight of the stone still cloven into muscle. 

Then, a whisper from her patient, “Do it, Wraith. Don’t be gentle. No time.”

Though it appeared she had pulled herself partially out of shock, Natalie had yet to open her eyes. Her body was tense and awaiting the moment of the foreign object’s removal. Wraith encircled her fingers around the base of the wedged rock, and tore it away. 

The girl’s body lurched as her back twisted into a sharp arch, her lips splitting to reveal a breathless, open-mouthed grimace. But not a cry escaped her. 

Wraith needed both hands. With one she snatched up a field bandage from the medkit to press against the wound, and the with the other - having dropped Natalie’s hand - she gripped the loader and shot the injection high into the trapezius. 

Slowly, ever so painfully slowly, the tension was lifted from Natalie’s sparse breathing. The arch of her spine took its time retracting into a more natural wave, but the painkiller was finally working its magic. She was finally healing.

Natalie dared deeper breaths, more steady and controlled as her anguish dwindled. 

Wraith fought a failing battle for her composure when blue eyes peeled open to cast a smile upon her. "You always come through for me-"

"Wraith!" Path called again, his bright voice unable to hide the omen it carried. "I have been incapacitated, and Revenant has gone into the tunnel! I'm so sorry, friend. I can repair myself and be there as soon as I-"

"I'll take care of him, Path," replied Wraith with darkened words. "Thank you. Gave us all the time we needed."

With great care, Natalie picked herself up from the floor, but the action prompted Wraith to reach for the bandage. A quick peek showed the flow of blood only partially dammed by scabbing. It would take a few minutes longer for the wound to fully close. She pressed the bandage back into place, and Natalie held very still as she strapped it tight around her torso. Then, with a near numb touch, Wraith’s fingers drifted to the orange jacket and pulled the loose half to drape around the girl’s shoulder. 

Natalie wasn't smiling anymore, instead following Wraith with a face plastered in concern. She had almost turned to leave when Natalie wordlessly grabbed her arm and shoved a battery into her hands. She felt her head dunk itself in a pool of embarrassment. Charging into battle unprepared yet again... Even after being gored by a stone, Natalie was still looking out for her. Wraith plugged it into her emptied shield module.

"Hang tight," she reassured Natalie, not noticing confusion pucker at those still-pale features. "Just gonna go send that bastard to the abyss."

Fully charged, she flung herself out of that hidden room, striding down the hall with clamoring steps in a wordless declaration to Revenant. She was ready for him.

The wind-howls of the portal room greeted her upon entry. Then came the crashing of a door when Revenant barreled through the far side. He was ready for her.

Several shots were exchanged, but it only took one to the head from her Wingman to put a chink in his armor. Revenant wasn't staggered in the slightest as he flung his silencer in an arcless trajectory. Wraith dove to the steps on her right in attempt to evade. Despite her speed, the projectile preemptively spawned its chains and caught her with a single link at her left palm. From there the rest of the chains swarmed her, constricting her movements. Wraith fought frantically to keep her firing arm free.

The Others were gone. Not muddled, not murmuring. Simply gone, thanks to the silencing quality of the chains. In their absence, Revenant bore down upon her. Within his arms he held what she cringed to see was a low-kitted Mastiff, raring for the kill.

"Where is she, _Renee_?" He asked mockingly. "I warned you before, I will not fail again."

"And I warned you, stay the fuck away from her!"

A direct shot from his weapon shattered her armor with enough force to slap her against the wall behind. Brazenly did she dive forward, not letting the impact deter her. Wraith slipped past the muzzle of the Mastiff before Revenant could chamber his next shot, thrusting her pistol pointblank in his face.

It was all she could do, with the chains burning and grating against her restrained limbs. Revenant was not afraid. His compressing hand reared back with a poignant warning. Sparkling voidlight glanced off the edges of his fingers while they shrunk together to form a hungry knife. “Wait, you. Don’t go thinking you have the drop on me.”

“You’re not getting through me this time.”

"Face it, lovebird. You failed her." There was a visible mirth in his simmering eyes. He was reading her like a book. "But don't feel bad. Never a good idea anyway, trusting a Paquette."

Wraith scowled with disdainful words. "What would you know about it."

"Heh, more than you would, I can say that. Think about what you actually know about her. Her family, for instance. Is it a coincidence she so happened to cling to Nox like he was her father?"

"He manipulated her. Her own father would neve-"

"You're wrong. That's what fathers _do_." She hated how his words slithered in their emphasis, like a knife snaking under skin. "At least in her bloodline. Those scummy sacks of skin locked her into this fate from the beginning. Hopeless, just like me."

"She's nothing like you," seethed Wraith.

"Hrmph, it’s laughable, really. You sympathetic types preach about morals and ethics, yet blind your eyes to a young girl being forged by a bloodstained mafia. Heh ha ha-! Not to mention, she even had the chance to escape, and you all sided with the old man to tie her into the Syndicate. This little tragedy is all your fault!”

Wraith lashed out with the last round of her pistol. The simulacrum's head was flung back from the satisfying hit, but horror filled her when he did not fall.

Revenant righted his head to show her his blazing eyes. "So, how do you wish to lose? Her life, or yours? Make your choice, Renee."

“Mine, of course.” Wraith dropped the emptied Wingman, freeing her loosed hand to fly for the sheathe of her knife. She could only dream of being fast enough, for when Revenant drolled out a blood-curdling growl, she knew her fate was sealed. His hand blurred into a merciless thrust the same instant she attempted to strike. 

Contact was made with a blast of fire within her ears. Wraith’s mouth popped open as the air was violently wrenched from her lungs, thanks to the boiling sensation splashing through her splatter-patterned scar. Colors and lines blurred together into a faded watercolor canvas smudged by a careless hand. In similar manner did her touch fade, all senses training upon the black hole forming in her stomach. Even her limbs dissolved in the wake of the agonizing singularity. 

Wraith could vaguely feel the floor rising to catch her with a harsh clap upon her spine, but moreso was she aware of the half-ton weight of a metal body laying atop her. 

She turned her head away from his lightless face as she fought to alleviate the pressure. Through clenched teeth did she gnash out anguished gasps. Her numbed hands helped little as she clawed at her own stomach, blindly searching for the simulacrum’s hand. Desperate fingers wove over and beneath her belts, prying through the lacing of her jumpsuit, anything to scratch away the molten lance that melted its way through her core. Revenant’s offending wrist still eluded her, like it did through so many waking terrors that plagued her nights since the first Hunt. If only she could _find_ it. 

A voice bounced off her ears, unheard through the roar of flames that replaced the silenced Others in her head. Revenant’s chains were slow in releasing their grip.

The weight was thrown from her body, and instinctively Wraith crinkled into a fetal curve. Metal fingers encircled her wrists to pull her arms away from her wound, to which Wraith blindly kicked and writhed in protest. 

“-ith. Are you hurt?! Wraith!” That was Pathfinder’s voice. “Can you hear me, friend?”

She couldn’t place him, and her eyes weren’t even closed- no… they were. The crosshatched black and grey of the room around her was only an imprint upon negative space. Wraith wrenched her heavy eyelids open and blinked the twinkling black arms of tunnel vision back into her peripheral. The monochrome haze of the room was broken by Path’s gleaming blue screen of tears. 

Wraith wasn’t hurting. Or, at least, she didn’t _think_ she was. A tentative look was spared down at her own belly, where there lay… nothing. She was intact, despite the sharp likeness of Revenant’s fist still pressing into her. The chains must have dissolved, for her limbs were untied as well.

Gently retrieving one hand from Path’s grip, she splayed her hand over the hidden scar. A phantom pain… More aggressive than any she had experienced thus far. Enough to throw her into mind-shattering panic - no doubt thanks to her coming face to face with the culprit himself in such a manner. 

_“Get up. You’re giving yourself away.”_ One voice broke the Revenant-induced silence. But its sternness startled her. Wraith’s glance shifted to the giant portal under which she’d collapsed. Blasey…? 

_“Eyes up.”_

Natalie was standing watch above her, opposite the portal. A Sentinel was at the ready, its stock set securely at her now-healed shoulder. Clearly combat ready, with the hood once again gripping her head in its comforting embrace and the jacket safely cloaking her form. Natalie's lips were pursed tight while her clouded eyes fluttered between Wraith and Revenant’s lifeless body beside her.

A quick look showed Wraith the frayed hole striking laterally through the simulacrum's neck from the bullet that had eliminated him. Natalie… had eliminated him… Again.

Both Path and Nat were waiting on her for a response, teetering on the edges of their figurative seats. 

“I’m okay.” Stressed breathing had turned her into an alto.

Path was quick to reply, “Are you sure?”

Wraith sat up first, cautiously, then ventured the journey to her feet, hand clutching the fabric that covered her scar. Unseen lava still churned in her gut, but she could tell now that she was not injured. Revenant’s blow had never hit.

“I’m sure.”

“So you are unharmed? And Wattson’s okay, too. I’m so relieved, friends!” Bouncing in place, Path reached over to take Natalie’s free wrist between large fingers. The stoic face she had been using to torment Wraith dissolved with a tiny giggle.

“Of course I’m alright.”

“Of course, of course,” he nodded. “You had Wraith here! She’s the best, isn’t she?”

A subdued glance her way almost coerced Wraith to flee through Singh’s portal, before Natalie whispered, “Yes.”

The blond turned, following the word with an audible smooch as she hopped up to kiss Pathfinder à la bise. 

“And thanks to you for keeping us safe, Pathy.”

“Happy to help, friend! But what to we do now? I don’t want to play this game.”

“Me neither.”

Wraith wordlessly scooped up her discarded Wingman and reloaded with a fresh cylinder. Her mind was reeling like an old-earth film, playing before her low frame scrolls of Nox’s confession, Revenant’s threats, Natalie’s face. The others were unsettling enough, but it was Natalie’s that shook her to her core. She had overheard Revenant, hadn’t she?

“We need to get out of here,” Wraith finally said. The throbbing of urgency beat within her chest. It was long since time to abandon the Hunt. Wraith started to move, but was halted by Natalie stepping in front of her, barring the way with her sniper.

“We’ll be alright here for now. This place is easily defensible.”

Neither woman could hold the other’s eyes. Tension had shrunken Wraith’s lungs, and her breathing came shallow. She could sense the unspoken request for an explanation, lurking just beneath the surface of her friend's face. Wraith felt she had just as many questions herself.

Beyond Natalie’s shoulder, she could see through the fogged, dusty windows of the labs’ central room.

There sat the infamous chair, semi-dismantled by none other than a young Natalie… Years ago, playing alone in the arena of a bloodsport… An arena which held among the most taboo of the IMC’s secrets…

What kind of family would let their child play in a place like this?

Natalie had always spoken of her father with a sad fondness and love immeasurable. But Revenant's words had stirred doubt within Wraith. 

“No." She was done asking the Games for their hidden truths. In this time, with her friend's life on the line, it was no longer worth the risk. "I mean we need to leave. We need to escape.”

This arena had been Natalie’s backyard long enough.


	8. Fire Escape to the Heavens

**Fire Escape to the Heavens**

  
Of course Natalie wasn't going to let go so easily. This place was the only life she knew; Wraith was aware of that. There was no surprise in the barrier building up before her, though Wraith still felt herself running from the shadow of loneliness such a wall cast. 

The announcement of the second ring's initiating movement gave little cause for concern. But still Nat was visibly upset after checking her maps.

“...How are you expecting us to escape?”

"Simple enough." Wraith retrieved Caustic’s banner from her pocket just long enough for a quick wave. The darkening of Natalie’s eyes upon catching his likeness did not escape her, but she went on to explain regardless, “We can use this to call in a dropship, hijack it with Path’s zipline when Caustic jumps off, then ditch the arena.”

Path was more than enthused. “Clever, friend!”

“It was the old man’s idea.”

Regrettable that Natalie’s safety hinged upon Nox. But as much as it irked Wraith to admit, his method was the best chance they had. 

Natalie did not agree. “I would rather not call the doctor back into the arena.”

“What choice do we have?”

She was not about to let her friend fight unprotected through seven more rounds of such a fixed game. Their odds were too slim. 

“Maybe we don’t have to leave. I heard what Elliott said before,” Natalie countered. “Let’s bring him back instead. I’m certain with his help we can convince everyone else that this game is too dangerous to play.”

Wraith wasn’t even going to mention that it never occurred to her to use Mirage’s supplies. Though Natalie’s logic seemed sound enough, she wasn’t confident such a plan would work. But, at least, calling Mirage in would be safer than the old man.

Natalie must have taken note of her hesitation as Wraith knelt next to his body and began her search.

“Pathy, can you go on ahead? Let’s make sure the beacon outside is still active.”

“Gladly!” 

Pathfinder’s steady strides marched through the halls and faded out the labs’ south entrance. 

Finally did Natalie’s eyes lock onto Wraith, but that came as no comfort. Within her face was a flurry of questions raging for an outlet, though barricaded by the newfound hardness in her expression. It was the same sharp frown and dulled eyes that she had previously reserved for the likes of Nox or even Crypto. The strings of anxiety that held Wraith tied since the start of the match tightened more than ever. She couldn’t bear to be beheld by such a face. 

When Natalie next spoke, her voice was low. “Did you mean what you said to him?”

“To Witt?” Wraith asked. He was on her mind while she continued to search for his banner. It wasn’t in its usual pocket.

Despite her vengeful threats toward him, her old friend had seemed so desperate to help. Maybe they would be okay; maybe they could be lucky enough to negotiate a ceasefire. But that would only work until the endgame - where the winner was to be truly decided.

Wraith shrugged, almost as an apology to the body before her. “I guess not-”

“To Revenant.”

Her hands froze. So Natalie _did_ hear. But how much? She twisted into a cautious look over her shoulder. Natalie’s eyes stuttered, only able to meet hers for seconds at a time. Slowly the girl sank into a squat, Sentinel across her knees, and an absentminded hand drifted down to play with the edge of a tarp upon the floor. The frown upon her face pulled further into a pouting scowl as her next question slowly formulated. 

“You didn’t even hesitate. Were you really going to give up your life without a second thought?”

What luck that Natalie had come on the scene in time to hear her declaration to Revenant. But oh, Wraith had given much more than just a second thought to this. It had been her resolve, all season long. It was an obvious decision: a simple choice of her life or Natalie’s? The survival of a condemned experiment vs the survival of the most brilliant woman in the Frontier? What hesitation could there be to give? 

Wraith’s hands balled into fists as they rested upon Mirage’s body, but suddenly fell through as his form was disintegrated for transfer. All that was left was a small package of his loot. “Wh-”

“Friends!” Path called over the comms. “The beacon out here is still active, but someone is dropping in by the Cage!”

“Mirage?”

“Yes, Mirage!”

“How?!” Wraith stared down at the dried arc of his old blood-splatter. 

“I see Bloodhound’s scanner. They must have spawned him. They will very likely loot the Cage and the surrounding area.”

She leapt to her feet. “Can you catch that dropship?”

“It’s too far, friend. It’s already leaving.”

“Alright hang tight, we’ll be right out. No idea how Bloodhound got through the labs without us noticing each other.”

“They’re what we call a ‘sneaky bastard,’ right?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She only half-heartedly agreed. Bloodhound was often anything but sneaky, with how they screeched and raced and flushed their enemies out of hiding with the most conspicuous scanner in the Games. How did their paths not cross? “I dunno what road Mirage is gonna take, but try not to get caught by the sneaky bastard, Path.”

“Copy that! Don’t worry, I have faith in our best friend Mirage.”

Wraith strode towards the exit, but with a lightning reflex, Natalie shot towards her and caught her by the arm. “Don’t ignore me.”

“There's no time for this,” Wraith argued weakly.

“Non. Don’t. I know you try to shoulder everything on your own, Wraith, and I understand a little better now why you do so.” Natalie didn't stop her from walking down the lab corridors, though her guiding hand ensured Wraith didn’t outpace her. “But je n'aime ça. What drives you to such extremes? Just how much are you really hiding?”

Wraith’s eyes were wider than she’d admit when she slipped a glance aside at the young woman. She half expected an image from a near-forgotten lucid dream to become real before her. The streak of a flaming knife. Ignition in Natalie’s eyes. Perhaps a snap of the jowls of the Voidwalker’s helmet.

All she saw were her friend’s somber blues, pleading an explanation from her.

Wraith winced at a tingling in her abdominal scar. Words became rushed as she threaded her final excuse. “Nothing- well… No, don’t read too much into it, Nat. You’re the champion. You’re the one who’s unprotected, this time. Just wanted to get Revenant off your back-"

"But he never touched my back?"

The interruption almost derailed her, but Wraith shrugged it off with a sigh. She had never told Natalie of the simulacrum's threats following the first Hunt. "He went after you because of me. And then there's old man Nox watching over you the way he does…"

“I’m not the doctor’s responsibility.” Natalie stated coldly, then, softer, “And I’m not yours, either.”

“I-” She knew it to be true, but it hurt to hear. A very specific pain not easily placed. Like the fleeting twinge from hearing news of a catatonic girl alone in her home, but knowing that there were others out there better suited to help.

Those others, the legends, the roster of friends Natalie always had by her side... What Wraith could offer paled in comparison to them. But Natalie was family now, and responsibility or not, she had already dedicated her life to this beacon of light.

Through the sadness in the young woman's face shone a small smile - a passing wave from the lighthouse that Wraith strove to keep in her sights from the depths of a dark ocean.

Nat's tone quieted even further. "Even with the Games protecting you… It scares me, you know, seeing you throw yourself in harm’s way so easily. I just don't want you to think we owe each other anything.”

The two came to a pause at the bunker doors of Singh’s labs when gloved fingers gripped Wraith’s elbow a trace tighter.

“Toute façon. I'm sorry things have gone so wrong, but fleeing will not solve this. I want to stay so we can end this fight as quickly as possible, and find out how it keeps happening."

“It’ll only end if you’re the last person standing.” They may have been her own words, but they nestled with a tremble in Wraith's heart. The light dipped ever lower towards her horizon.

It was clear from Caustic’s actions at the beginning of the Hunt that Wraith's own protection was gone, but here it seemed she had managed to convince Natalie otherwise. If the girl was willing to let all others be eliminated to ensure her own victory… maybe now was the chance for Wraith to quit being selfish and let it happen. Nat was right, after all. The sooner they could end (and subsequently discontinue) the Scavenger Hunt, the better. Her friend's safety came first; Wraith just needed to find a way to tell the girl about Nox's true intentions before the end.

This was the path she had chosen from the beginning.

Natalie was nodding rather eagerly. “I think we can arrange that. If Elliott and Pathy understand the seriousness of this game, then I’m positive everyone else will too! They all remember what happened in the first Scavenger Hunt. I’m sure they will understand if we explain how we did it… how- What happened… last time…”

Her voice dwindled into a faint breath under the weight of a new thought in her mind. Wraith tilted her head as she saw the spark of an idea strike Natalie’s expression, and when the girl turned widened eyes to meet her, a near tangible arc of electricity delivered that idea directly into her brain. 

She should have known her friend would overthink this. Wraith’s lips peeled open, “Hold on a sec-”

There was an almost visible flashback within Natalie’s gaze: how her friend had tried several methods to end herself before leaping over the edge into Talos lava. 

“Oh no, Wraith, no, no no!” Natalie gripped her head and bowed low. "Jurer devant Dieu, I’m such an idiot!”

“C'mon, stay calm...”

She almost fell back as the girl shot upright again and spun towards her. Frantic hands hooked themselves in the sleeves of Wraith’s purple harness and pulled her close. There she got a good look at how those deep blues swam in a synchronous accent to her wavering voice.

“I’m the bait!! They learned from what happened last time… They knew we’d keep each other safe. And they knew you wouldn’t hesitate if I were to become Champion. I’m not even the one in danger!”

“Now wait, we don’t know that- wait, Nat!” She swatted at the girl’s panicked hand which now dipped down her body, prying for her Wingman. “Natalie, stop!!”

“No, do it!” Natalie found the pistol the same moment Wraith gripped it herself. “Eliminate me and end this now before anything else happens.” 

That slender hand of hers was already locked upon Wraith’s over the weapon in a vice grip, and mercilessly did Natalie pull it from its holster into position. Their closing proximity had halted Wraith’s breathing, but now her throat clenched painfully tight.

She was _not_ going to let Natalie do the same as Mirage. But try as she might to shove herself away, the young woman kept her near with one hand remaining latched onto her harness. While the two struggled over the weapon, Natalie’s finger began to slip into place next to the trigger. "Please don't fight me, Wraith. This match must end!"

Within her head raged a torrent of screams in one climactic wave, but Wraith herself could not voice their protests with how her breathing was wrung by shock and desperation. This couldn’t be happening. 

Failing to push her off, Wraith’s second hand slapped against the other’s wrist in attempt to wrench her grip from the Wingman. But, of course, Natalie was just as fast. Within an instant the fingers in her harness released her in favor of the pistol.

Natalie didn't hesitate. When their tussling hands finally brought the Wingman into alignment with her head, her thumb snapped across the trigger.

The hopped-up muzzle flash erupted between the two, and Wraith let out a choked gasp that carried along with it enough anguish to fill the hollow canyon in her heart. She felt Wattson's grip slacken when the red-hot bullet crunched against the high-tier barrier of energy that protected her head. The shield warbled like laminated paper before it shattered into particle dust around her reeling body.

It was enough of an impact to stun her, but no true damage had been done. Whatever relief Wraith might have felt in knowing Wattson's gear held up to the challenge was drowned in pure rage. She hated this game.

Wraith yelled, wrenching the Wingman away before Wattson could fully recover. "Natalie, _think_!!"

Her flaring, stress-stoked temper had rebuilt her voice. When Wattson’s blind hands still searched for the weapon, Wraith responded with a violent shoulder charge to the chest that knocked the woman to the ground.

"What was all that talk about not hesitating?! Think you're the only person allowed to sacrifice yourself for someone they care about?" Furious hands flung the offensive Wingman down into the lab corridors behind her, where the collisions rattled and the rattles echoed, on and on. She was vaguely aware of a cowering Wattson pulling herself away. "Don't forget how badly they've already hurt you, Natalie. You’re unprotected too, and I'm _not_ letting you take the fall for me again!"

_“Get a grip, Blasey.”_

Just barely, in the clouded reflection of a lab window nearby, Wraith was struck by a glimpse of her own likeness. She spun away before she could get a good look, but the sight pushed past her peripheral. Like a statue it remained, showing her a ghostly face of hatred upon a predatory stance. 

A buzzing began to crawl about beneath her scalp. Shame paired itself with contempt for the woman in the reflection. Rage vaporized like steam. She really did react just like Blasey would. With weak knees, Wraith sank to the floor. 

"I..." She barely breathed out. The voice that left her lips felt tinny and... fake. It hit her like an old recording that had been recycled and reuploaded through numerous devices for years passed.

Wraith forced herself to swallow against this light-headed sensation. Her eyes clamped shut.

"I'm sorry," the soulless words finally freed themselves.

Only a muffled whimper came from Wattson huddled on the ground.

There weren’t many left who were strangers to her anger. Wattson had been one of them. Ever since their first meeting, Wraith had strived to learn that compassion which came so easily to the girl. There was no trick to it when in Natalie’s presence. Her calm cheer was infectious. And when struck by the fallout of Loba’s missions, Wraith had forced herself to remain cool and collected for her friend’s sake. But this fight against her own tendencies was a tiring constant amongst the unpredictability of their lives. A perpetual battle against the unconquerable Renee Blasey.

For a regrettable moment, she had lost that fragile self-control.

Though necessity had dictated her actions, Wraith weakened even further at the sight of Wattson on the ground. Despite the urge to reach out and comfort the girl, numbness had overtaken her limbs. Guilt began to speak from within her mind. From beyond her reality. From beyond _any_ reality.

Orphaned whispers threatened to steal the color of blurring blue eyes. Words wafted about that shared her voice, but not her thoughts. They stroked sky-toned irises before sinking their claws in, digging into the growing cavity within a hanging skull. There they greedily scooped handfuls of grey matter until their subject was no more than a thin, hollow puppet crumpling into a heap on the ground.

The puppet's dismembered soul watched from beyond, powerless as its strings were cut little by little until merely one remained. One last semblance of control by the name of Instinct. All else was gone. No personality. No empathy. Only animosity.

"I heard a shot, friends!" A burst of another's fake voice, like a radio signal seeping through white noise. "Is everything okay?"

Silence for a long moment, before:

"We're unharmed, Pathy. Keep watch out there. We'll be along in a moment." Soft words in reply, lilted by a foreign tongue.

The exchange fell upon ringing ears with all the effectiveness of TV noise hitting a heavy sleeper.

But the voice... it carried something with it. A fickle force known as Memory. It sparked a twinge within, like a tiny explosion across the belly of... 

...Her. _Her_ stomach. Where was spread _her_ scar.

Twig-like arms crossed over that scar. Bunched shoulders teetered forward until brow nearly met concrete.

The spark began to itch; the itch began to pierce. 

A spear of pain pushed through her core that she welcomed. It was familiar, unique. Hers and hers alone. An anchor to her place within this reality: what she had given, what she had taken. It linked her to a history that was her own, singling her out amongst a host that clambered to drag her in with a thousand icy fingers and bury her in the grave of “just another lost cause”.

A physical hand splayed over her paper-thin back, and its touch sent a tingling wave washing gently throughout her weary body. With the sensation was carried the grounding of _volume_. The thinness in her limbs filled out. Her chest and core swelled with a much-needed breath. The emptiness in her mind was inundated by renewed awareness. That was a friend's hand on her back.

She reached up and found the arm from which it came. 

Such a response emboldened the one above her. A second hand drifted down to her shoulder, and gently coaxed her upright. Her torso felt heavy; her head felt even heavier.

"Wraith."

Right. Her name was Wraith. This was her. This...

She peeled her remaining arm away from her stomach and stared down at her open palm. 

This body was hers, and it was as real as the dimension it lived in. Alien or not, she was still Wraith.

"I get it." The speaker's hands rested upon her own. The dismembered whispers quieted.

Wraith finally lifted her head, and saw prettiest woman in the world sitting across from her. 

She swallowed hard at that intrusive thought. Hardly the moment for such an observation, discerning from the pain that pinched that young face. Wattson…

Her mind may have fallen away for a moment, but Wraith hadn't forgotten. This girl had almost killed herself a moment beforehand.

"I'm sorry," Wraith croaked out again. She held desperately onto this eye contact, as if Wattson's grounding gaze alone were enough to keep her from slipping off this plane of reality once more. "I'm so sorry..."

"No." Wattson was concernedly searching her face. “I understand. Without a second thought, it really does feel so easy to just… end one’s self to keep the people you love safe. I can see that clearly now, Wraith, and- I had the audacity to be angry with you...”

With eyebrows drawn, Wraith almost physically shrank away. Not from the confession of anger - quite the opposite. A word she had yet to hear from Natalie; a word she had often thought about but never knew the name of. A dead concept that was slowly being resuscitated as she learned more about what Natalie meant to her. This was certainly the worst possible time to have such a word brought back to the forefront of her mind. But she couldn't deny it. Wraith… loved her. Or, at least, it was what she thought was love. 

Natalie’s head was lowered, “You were ready to let it happen to yourself this whole time, weren't you?"

Her mouth opened to respond, but words failed her. Wraith clenched her teeth with a guilty shrug.

"I don’t doubt you thought it was for the best… j'sais pas. I- I think I am still angry. But maybe you finally understand why now, yes?"

“Uhn, I guess.” She grunted through the pit in her throat. Wraith was on her heels as emotions that had been muddled by stress and detachment were now unveiled before her. Her burst of fury had, in a converse way, cleared her eyes. It must have stemmed from a frustration similar to Natalie's. "I think I was angry in the same way just now.”

Natalie nodded. They had striven so hard to protect each other because… they did love each other… right?

Wraith shook her head to stir her mind. She was dwelling too much on this. They cared for one other like they were family. That was all this was…

… and only a few months ago, that would have been more than enough. More than she could even dream. But now Wraith began to wish she were someone capable of something even greater than that. She knew nothing of the subject; she felt selfish just thinking about it. Still, she dared to wonder if… if Natalie actually _loved_ her as more than family.

A cynical voice brought her back down to earth. _“Your lying to her almost got her killed.”_

A wince spread across Wraith's face, but before Natalie could say anything about it, they were interrupted by the arena overcomm.

"Round three, beginning ring countdown."

They were barely out the edge of the next circle.

She had to refocus. This delay had been long enough already.

Natalie took the moment to recharge her shield. Despite all of Wraith’s desperate efforts, the girl had come far too close to death. Had the shield extension around her head been a tier weaker, the bullet would have carved a chunk out of her skull. The thought shook Wraith with a collage of emotions. Fear, anger, yearning - feelings she now realized were requited (save for that last one, which she along with her Others still held in doubt).

“So-” Wraith cleared her throat. “Time to get you out of here. You get why we have to leave?"

Her companion was now scavenging a handful of abandoned accelerants nearby. “I do. But… you said yourself once that running away would be just as dangerous. Was that just another excuse to stay here and get yourself killed?”

Wraith shriveled at the tone in Wattson’s voice - so honed by sadness that there was nearly an accusatory edge. But she couldn’t blame that residual anger on anything but herself.

_“Definitely lost her for good this time.”_

Her companion didn’t expect an answer. Wattson plugged a spare accelerant card into her banner and lifted her gaze as if she could see past concrete and into the skies. "I hope this works.”

_“She doesn’t even wanna think about you anymore.”_

Wraith rapped her palm against her temple in warning to this annoyingly vocal alternate. A grumble lay deep in her throat as she made a short retreat into the lab corridors to retrieve her pistol. 

When she returned, Wattson had scooped up a freshly transferred pylon into a tight hug. Her mood flipped on a dime, from steely to near giddy. She twirled about on one foot with the trophy system in her arms, before smoothly shouldering it across her back. A marvel how easily the young woman swung such a weight about, even with her previous injuries healed. Her radiance was peeking through the clouds, but Wattson hesitated as she reopened the lower bunker door. “Is there a plan for when we heist the dropship?”

“-Uh, for now? Not really.”

An aggravated sigh came in return, followed by a tired smile upon a shaking head. “Guess it doesn’t really matter where we go right now.”

_"See? Still angry."_

Wraith lowered her head with a grumble, “Shut up.”

Pale eyes lifted to meet blue. Wattson had turned to look at her from a pace ahead. Blood tingled under Wraith’s skin as it rushed into her cheeks.

“Uh, not you. Don’t worr-”

“I know, ma spectre.” 

Of course. Wattson was well versed in reading her eyes by now. Yet something about her acknowledgement twirled the lightest tickle of a feather within Wraith's chest, for just an instant. Being addressed by what she assumed meant "ghost", here of all places, seemed to silence that pesky Other. She vaguely wondered if it was Wattson's ghost that had been muttering in the back of her head. That particular wraith couldn't be blamed for being so cynical.

They reached the outer blast doors and finally stepped into the warm air of the Solace arena. Wraith’s eyes were still on Wattson as the girl lifted a hand to call Path over their comms.

But then she saw the hook of a distraction snag those eyes and reel them to a point high into the development before them. Tracking the look, she saw a figure step into view amongst the buildings. And then another. Wraith swept her gaze across the area, seeing no less than a half-dozen iterations of Mirage surrounding them. All were casual, all non-threatening.

A small legion of Elliotts in a wide circle rained finger guns down upon the two women. In response, Wraith rolled her eyes so dramatically they could have gotten lost in her skull. 

“They’re here to help!” A yell from Path from where he stood upon the beacon bluff.

Both Wraith and her companion locked sights upon another fighter directly beside them. There Bloodhound leaned against the concrete doorway that supported the labs’ bunker. All weapons were stowed; there seemed to be no immediate danger. And the continued quiet of the Others almost comforted Wraith. No need for panicked outcry.

Bloodhound saluted them. “Others are nearby, andskoti of yours.”

Still she remained tense, even as she spied Wattson lowering her Sentinel. Bloodhound pushed themself away from the wall.

“I know your concern, ghost of Snærr. I saw the two of you in that accursed lab. Though I cannot think highly of those enpawned to the giants of industry so disrespectful...” They spoke with a pointed stare at Wattson that burned Wraith beneath the collar. “There is a happ you carry that cannot be lost. We will assist you. Be prepared for the fire of our enemies; your fight will be uneven.”

“We’re not staying to fight,” stated Wraith. Her eyes were narrowed as she realized Bloodhound had been the one the Others had tried to tell her of while she had tended to Wattson's earlier injury. Outside of the reassurance that Bloodhound had long since chosen not to fight them, it was now irrelevant information. Wraith nodded in gesture towards the MRVN upon the bluff. “Path, call in the dropship! We’re getting Nat out of here.”

A thoughtful hum rumbled from Bloodhound. “They will be upon us with haste.”

To punctuate their words, a blast of green light illuminated the heavens. Path had activated the signal. Seconds later did another streak line the sky to announce the arrival of their getaway. Wraith goaded her companion before her, frowning at the unhappy glance she received in response.

The two clambered onto the bluff next to the beacon, Wraith calling out to Path. “You can make that shot, right?”

He was taking aim, waiting for the Goblin-class dropship to pause over the beacon. And then came the pressurized explosion as he launched his zipline like a javelin. Together the fighters held their breath for the moment of contact, and let out a collective sigh when the zipline post latched onto a lateral stabilizer. Wraith squinted against the sun to see if Caustic would make the jump. But no, he was waiting for them.

And so was the rest of the roster. 

“They’re here!” Mirage - the real Mirage, standing atop the bunker roof - cried in warning of a rumbling that pounded towards them from the north. 

A howl erupted from a red-fuming Bloodhound below as they barrelled around the east side of the labs' bunker. “Airstrike, cover yourselves felagi fighters!”

_“Hot zone, move!”_

The artillery marched upon the bluff. Wraith scanned the landscape for the perpetrator whom she knew to be Bangalore. “Watts-”

“J’sais!” The girl barked before she could even ask. The pylon was thrown to the ground in the nick of time, spinning up and zapping away those missiles that dared fall too close. Wattson’s tone tied a chafing rope tighter and tighter around her heart. Though Wraith knew time would ease her companion's anger, it still bit into her wound of guilt, flaying it even further open than before as it tightened.

They were too exposed. Path latched onto the zipline first with the dropship holding steady, but a torrent of gunfire from several directions encouraged him to remain on the ground.

“Looks like we have to stay and fight, friends,” he mourned while recharging. 

Bloodhound had captured the attention of the squad approaching from the northeast, broadcasting their scans to the group. It was Bangalore and Gibraltar closing in fast, but they were held at bay by the hunter’s raging ferocity. Mirage meanwhile provided the extra chaos to keep the remaining fighters preoccupied - at least one other group had arrived from the northwest. Each individual decoy of his dexterously weaved about the surrounding foliage in a dizzying dance, avoiding incoming fire as if they all were the real thing.

Wraith almost agreed with Path to fight, but she failed to get a headcount through the tumult around them. There was no optimal angle to forge an attack, thanks to the speed at which the remaining fighters pressed in.

There came the hiss of Octane’s jump pad on their flank, the shimmering of Loba jumping to a higher vantage in the distance, heavy firefighting from all directions except from that of the ring hemming them in from the south. 

Then the spark of a flare upon the bluff cast the red shadow of Gibraltar’s bombardment upon them. Not a problem with the trophy system still standing guard.

“No!!” A weak screech from Wattson. Wraith’s attention shot to the girl, who deflected her eyes with a frantic gesture. Wraith heard it before she spotted it. Hack was careening onto the scene, with obvious intent to reboot. Wattson yelled out into the battle, “Crypto, STOP!”

A shaky shot from the Sentinel missed. A panicked mag from Wraith’s Wingman only managed to clip one bullet across the drone’s minishield as Crypto skillfully maneuvered the EMP into their space. Gibraltar's orbital defense had locked onto them.

“Shit, shit, shit…” Wraith growled with hands fumbling to reload her pistol, wanting nothing more than to be able to snatch Wattson up and portal her to safety in the development below. But her gauntlet was not primed. The EMP would rattle them on a molecular level if they attempted to flee by foot. And then the destruction of the airstrike would dust their ashes among the grass.

Unbridled panic chased Wattson into hiding under the beacon, from where she reached out and grasped the leg of her pylon as if it were a loved one’s hand. Wraith slid to her knees adjacent, finally chambering the cylinder in her pistol as Hack’s coating of light ballooned to cover the bluff. The bombardment was beginning to fall.

When she retrained her sights upon the drone and fired, her shot was accented by bullets from four other sources. Together, they silenced the EMP-to-be, and the pylon greedily gobbled the bombs that rained down upon them until there were no more. The battle paused to catch its breath. 

Wraith’s white eyes flickered about to place who had fired with her. Path, Mirage, Bloodhound, and…?

“You destroyed my drone!” Crypto’s disappointed voice filtered through the trees. 

“‘Course I did, ya dumbass!” Came an immediate response followed by an echoing thunk. Undoubtedly the sound of Lifeline’s drumstick cracking over his head. 

“Che…” Wraith breathed as she coaxed Wattson out from under the beacon. 

The girl peered through the trees. “Ajay?”

“Get the hell away from them, Silva!” Lifeline bellowed across the terrain. Shots from her machine gun drew a canopy over their heads towards Octane sneaking up from behind. 

“Why, chica?!” He retorted, backpedaling despite his unwillingness. “We’re sooo close!”

“This battle’s bigger’n all of us. Getcha weapons down. Oi, Loba! You too!”

Che had shuffled out of the underbrush towards the beacon, keeping an eye out in the direction where Mirage and Bloodhound were in direct combat with Gibraltar and Bangalore. 

“I think we catchin’ what ya plannin’ here. Don’t wanna chance anythin’ happenin’ to Paq, ye? Go on then, get outta this place! No time to chat, ring’s closin’ soon.”

Another wave of gunfire fell upon their position to spur their feet. 

"I'm down!" Mirage called over the comms. "Soldier lady's makin' a run at you guys!"

Che and Path were quick to respond, laying down suppressive fire in the direction Mirage signaled.

"Go, friends!!"

"You first, Nat. I'll cover you." Wraith reached a hand out to guide Wattson, but found DOC already pushing the girl forward by the small of her back. 

Wattson was hardly responsive, no doubt thanks to the hurricane of panic that whirled around them with not an eye for respite. She had managed to call in one more pylon before hastening towards the cable. Wraith followed, giving the drone a quick, appreciative pat on the head as she passed by.

"Thanks, doc."

She hooked onto the zipline with jumpkit activated. It would be a difficult angle to fire from, but thankfully no defensive shots were needed as they ascended into the skies.

Caustic was at the ready. He easily caught Wattson when she leapt from the line into the ship, but no such aid was offered to Wraith. Barely did she catch the lip of the ramp, but with a stroke of providence its rubber lining gave her the friction needed to hoist herself inside. Caustic meanwhile nonchalantly tossed overboard the body of the Goblin’s disposed pilot.

“Near time for us to test this proverbial back exit to your ring, isn’t it, Ms. Paquette?”

“Anything to get away from that dumpster fire down there,” muttered Wraith to herself as she rolled to safety inside the ship. The old man barred Wattson behind him, looming over both women like a rooted tree. His gritty eyes glowered down upon Wraith.

"I acknowledge the effort in which it took to bring her here safely, but you will not be escaping the fires below." 

_"He's going to kill you."_ A dozen voices burst through her mind with varying degrees of alarm.

"We're not leaving her, doctor," Wattson demanded. 

Smoothly did Nox pull the clip on his toxic bomb and let it cook with his finger on the lever. "It's either that, or she stays as a cadaver."

Wraith had not an inch to move, knowing he needed little provocation. Nothing short of pure horror enveloped Wattson’s demeanor. "Don’t touch her!"

"There will be no need. She wants this." His mocking glare stripped Wraith’s soul and laid her guilt exposed. "Already donated her life to science. Haven’t you, little lab rat?"

He pressed upon Wraith with the bomb held forward. Wattson strode after to intervene, but the old man had already foreseen her objection. He struck out at her with his free hand - the grip of his paw large enough to clamp over Wattson’s face and seal her airways. Nox's eyes never left Wraith's through the motion.

"Ms. Paquette, I do wish you would keep your distance. Do not concern yourself over this failure of an experiment. You think she cares about you? She’s been striving to perish since the Scavenger Hunt was first announced."

Wraith's gaze was drawn to the watery eyes of the girl struggling against Nox's merciless grip. His fingers bit deeper into flesh in response.

“Let her go.” Her voice was thick like magma, low and simmering and barely controlled.

“I will in time. ‘When’ is up to you.”

If she had a choice, she would gladly put a bullet through his brain instead. But that he already knew; he could see it in her face, and was ready.

“You know what this compound is truly capable of?” He turned the bomb delicately in his hand as a warning. Glassy eyes sparkled with glee. “All we need from you is one thorough inhalation. It is a most fascinating process that I can never deny the chance to observe.”

The man’s hand flexed with an even harsher grip on Natalie’s face. Wraith’s heart was torn upon seeing her tears now flowing freely. It killed her to be so powerless, emotionally as well as literally. While pondering how to buy herself a window of opportunity, Wraith took one last clean breath. “So... I inhale some gas and you’ll let her go?”

“A far more parsimonial end than what you deserve,” Nox's eyes narrowed into daggers. “But you have no other choice, do you Ms. ‘Science’ Pilot? I will happily oblige your donation to thanatology.”

A clap of gentle thunder. A whipstrike of light. Caustic was flogged by blinding azure.

Her opportunity arrived when the old man’s body lurched violently from the impact of Wattson’s lightning. The bomb slipped from his stiffened hand and nearly into Wraith’s lap. Instinctively, she snatched it out of mid air.

_“Get it out of here!”_

She spun and flung the offending item out the bay doors a mere second before it exploded into a moldy green cloud. Gentle Solace wind graciously carried it up and away from the dropship.

Caustic’s fierce growl resounded just behind her, accented by weak whimper from Wattson. He still held her in a single hand, even after the electrocution. Wraith strafed away from his advance and directly into the safety of the void. The disposed bomb hadn't been his only noxious asset. And seeing how roughly he handled Natalie showed her he cared little about the girl's wellbeing. Wraith loathed to think of him using her in his threats. To him, the only thing of Natalie's that needed to remain intact was her brain. Everything below that was fair game he could use to bargain for Wraith's death. She'd have to pick her shots carefully.

Wraith drifted through the imposing form of the doctor so that he now stood between her and the bay door. Against the scratchy blue of the void, Wattson’s form seemed to be fighting less and less. She couldn’t dance around in the phase forever. Her next move needed to be decisive and swift.

_“She’s running out of air.”_

Goaded by the urgency in that voice, Wraith dashed forward. But Caustic read her essence too well by now. Tactfully he’d edged backwards to the dropship ramp. Ghosting steps faltered when she saw his silhouette spin to toss Wattson out of the bay. 

What the _hell_ was he thinking?!

_“He’s baiting you-”_

Wraith didn’t register the warning in time. She lunged directly out of the void, knife in hand. But Nox had skillfully maintained his momentum from throwing Wattson, continuing to spin his powerful body about in a three-sixty degree follow-through that ended with his fist smashing into Wraith’s face like a sledgehammer. 

The force of a freight train upended her already airborne body. The interior of the ship twisted about dizzily and continued to do so after the metal floor smacked her in the back of the head. 

The warnings of the Others turned into screams. Wraith writhed upon the ground amidst a maelstrom of quicksand. Her eyes rolled about, lost within bleached clouds as she strained to place herself. Pain screeched through her head in a dissonant harmony with the Others. She couldn’t hear. She couldn’t see. She could only feel: feel the vibrations of Caustic’s boots stalking closer, feel the absence of warmth as he cast his shadow over her, feel the ground peel away from her back when he hooked his meaty hand in her collar and pulled her up.

Another strike pummeled into her jaw, but the spurt of blood from a cracked lip retrained her focus - like slapping the inebriation out of a drunk. A kunai was still discreetly tucked away within her grip. 

When Caustic reared his fist back a third time, she slipped the knife between his ribs. The weight he threw into his next punch did the rest. She held the weapon steady, letting it press past the hilt until it reached a lung. The old man’s face warped and scrunched beneath his mask as he wheezed with an agonized, drawn-out exhale. 

“You little-,” he spat out failing words that littered the inside of his mask with blood.

His hand flew to a spare canister at his hip with intent to pull the cap.

A pair of bullets tore through his body next from behind, forcing him to lean even heavier upon the knife until at last the crinkles of his hard-bitten face smoothened into more gentle sagging. Wraith sucked in a strained breath as his strength gave out above her, and shoved his body aside to rest. Disgust filled her face when she wrenched the knife from flesh. 

_“You’re not alone,”_ an observation, a _comfort_ almost, and certainly not a warning. Wraith became aware of three shadows upon herself, and traced them to look up at the passenger bay doors. 

Bangalore was there at the helm with a pointed face and her favorite scout rifle. Wattson and Path stood astride. Wraith didn’t like their collective look of concern for her.

“I had him,” she muttered, primarily to Bangalore.

“Sure, headcase,” replied the soldier. Wraith's jaw clenched in disdain, but she held her tongue as Bangalore lowered her rifle. “We’re weapons down, but they haven’t called the Hunt yet. Syndicate’s got a lot to answer for this time.”

“If anyone’s got something to answer for, it’s him,” Wraith nodded to the body of Caustic beside her. “He was behind the Scavenger Hunt from the beginning.”

“That so?” Bangalore strode forward. 

Wraith noticed Wattson’s eyes widening into a lost stare in the direction of the fallen man. There her gaze remained even as the soldier grabbed him by the foot and dragged him off the ship. 

“We’ll see about that, pilot. For now, I guess you ladies better get going before you get cooked by that ring.”

“It’ll be closing in less than a minute!” Said Path. He reached for Wattson’s wrist before striding forward and offering Wraith his other hand in help. She let the robot effortlessly pull her to her feet, though the swiftness of the action drained the blood from her pounding head and swirled it into waves that destabilized her footing. 

She could have keeled over then and there if Wattson hadn’t snatched her by the arms to steady her. Wraith found herself captivated by a glance that was as torturous as it was tortured. The air fled from her lungs.

His actions had already spoken volumes, but Wraith hadn’t mentioned the truth about old man Nox in front of Wattson until now.

“Just get out of here already,” Bangalore ordered. “We’ll find a way to talk things over later. I’ll cut the cable.”

“I’ll drive!” Path happily volunteered. "Oh! Bangalore! Can one of you let my girlfriend know? I do not want her to worry about me."

All women present froze with eyes locked upon him. Bangalore struggled to clear her throat. "Uh, you were gonna tell us about her when?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise! But this is more important, friend. Mirage can show you where we live."

"Okay, eh, roger that. We'll give her a visit then..."

"Thank you!!"

With a salute, the soldier leapt onto the zipline, brandishing a razor sharp combat knife that sliced right through Path’s cable. Her jump kit took care of the remainder of her descent. 

Path, meanwhile, eagerly leapt into the vacant cockpit of the dropship. At long last, the bay doors were closed, and the Goblin was pulled out of its hover. The jarring of acceleration forced Wraith to lean heavier upon Wattson, and her the same. 

There they remained locked in each other's grip. Wattson's stormy eyes rose to her face only to fall with the same steady rhythm of winter’s tide. There was nothing to say… or perhaps there was too much to say. But judging by the early-red, finger-shaped, soon-to-be bruises that cropped up from Wattson’s jaw to her cheek, Wraith guessed it would be an effort to speak at all.

She dared to reach a hand up: an unspoken plea to cup that face. An offer of a comforting touch to smooth away the aftermath of Nox’s abusive grip. But Wattson intercepted the hand with her own and pulled it away. The waves of her inner storm appeared to strengthen, forecasted by the dark clouds in her gaze when she pushed Wraith to the side. 

The girl was stepping away, in both heart and body. Wraith watched her with a sinking soul as Wattson chose the comfort of a passenger bench over the arms of a friend. 

She backed off wearily, the clinking of her belts and loose clamps giving her the illusion that she was chained to the floor. Wattson was turned away from her now, laying across the bench and facing the wall. As painful as it could be, Wraith knew to respect her need for space. 

The back of her knees bumped into the booth across from Wattson’s, and she didn’t stop her body from collapsing into the seat. There would be no rest to be had, but still she let her head hang and eyes slide shut. 

The dropship was accelerating further into a jump, and vaguely did Wraith wonder where Path would take them. But that didn’t truly matter to her anymore. They were finally escaping. Leaving the Syndicate, leaving the Hunt, leaving Caustic.

His betrayal went beyond the Scavenger Hunt. It was a truth Wraith had been withholding from Wattson for months, whether she was willing to or not. No doubt all the pieces had now finally fallen together for the girl, leaving her utterly overwhelmed. 

A leg was kicked up onto her seat and Wraith hugged it tight to herself. The last few fraying sinews within were tearing away. Guilt had finally cloven her heart into a pair of tattered pieces. Wattson had deserved to know the truth so much sooner. If only Wraith possessed the experience and discretion to know _when._

_"Never had a chance with her anyway."_

Biting words from returning Others ate into her mind. In their wake was left a weary and lonesome cavity that matched the gap of her severed heart. Wraith’s heavy head at last drooped forward to rest upon her knee. From the open wound within gushed a haze of regret, and in a few moments, she had lost her mind to its fog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to everyone still reading! been obsessing over the uncharted territory coming in the next few chpts... plenty more drama on the way


	9. More than Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writer's block hit hard in the process of this chapter... but we finally made it

**More Than Family**

Turbulence rumbled through her body with its soothing discord. 

Heavy silence permeated their getaway vehicle. Wraith sat huddled against the bulkhead near the cockpit door. Her tired eyes didn't need much preoccupation; baby blues waddled aimlessly about the ship's interior while her thoughts swirled about within. Though she couldn't deny: they fell upon Wattson most frequently. 

A wall of orange stared back at Wraith with the young woman facing away. Wattson hadn't moved in some time. Her gear was strewn about next to the bench, where the inactive pylon sat with its little legs folded politely together. 

She knew the girl reveled in silence. But the quiet wasn't treating Wraith with the same serenity. 

The quiet was speaking with disembodied voices.

She couldn't get Wattson out of her mind. Her conscience was run ragged with fear borne from her friend pulling back from her touch. It was a fear telling her that the last call of a future with Natalie had passed, that Wraith had sealed for herself a fate of loneliness.

But it was only fair. Wraith had withheld from the girl for months already.

Many of the Others denied this fear; but, naturally, just as many seemed to think it true. With every promise she'd made to Natalie broken, Wraith felt her burden grow heavier. By now she was a millstone amidst the sea, lassoing Wattson under the waves with her.

The girl deserved so much better. But as much as Wraith knew she needed to sever the rope, it hurt too much to think of a life apart from her. Because, well... could it be anything else? She loved her.

Wraith didn't care any longer if she was wrong about this, if she was misinterpreting these feelings. She had fallen hard for her, harder than she ever thought herself capable. 

Natalie still irrevocably held her heart, but the voices in her brain reminded her time and again to give up. For though Wraith desperately wished to stay by the girl's side for as long as this life would let her, she knew time wasn’t on her side. Natalie was strong, growing more independent with each passing hardship. Someday, of which Wraith knew it would be soon, Wattson would move on.

The sight of the young woman facing away from her only cemented this fear.

Deceleration pressed Wraith into the bulkhead she leaned up against for an extended moment, until their ride finally touched down. Stirring herself from her thoughts, Wraith sat at attention as Pathfinder let himself out of the cockpit. 

"Everything okay?" She asked quietly, unsure if Wattson was asleep. 

"I found an outpost to refuel, friend." Path didn't attempt to ease his voice one bit. No matter. The pneumatics of the opening bay doors were loud enough regardless. Wraith eyed Wattson across from her, but she had yet to move. 

"Careful not to catch too much attention. Wouldn’t be surprised if there's already a bounty out there for us."

"Not to worry. This fuel station is self-serve!" 

Path waltzed out the back door, banner in hand with tokens ready. Wraith slid after, but halted at the peak of the ramp to check their surroundings. There seemed to be no onlookers nearby - just another lazy, sleazy stop among the innumerable freight routes cross-hatching the Frontier. 

"Where are you taking us, anyway?" Wraith stepped outside to address him.

"I thought we could go meet my creator!" Path's headlamp beamed even happier than his screen. "My girlfriend found some hidden coordinates while she was inspecting me. I can finally say hi to him!"

"Your... girlf- while she was what??" She struggled to keep up, flabbergasted. 

"She found a manufacturer's information in the back of my chassis that I didn't even know was there! She said I could start there to track him down." Path twisted his arms about in attempt to point to the info in question, but failed. Wraith shook her head.

"...Right, Path, where did this girlfriend of yours even come from?"

"I found her in a dumpster and repaired her-"

A palm to the face from Wraith.

"-and she's been a very good companion! She is nice, but doesn't have many memories. Kind of like you!"

She sighed, "Not our fault we got defective memory banks."

"I know, friend. I remember how you seem slightly less angry whenever we help you find things about yourself, so I wanted to do the same for her! Then she insisted on helping me too."

Wraith almost chuckled at his sentiment. "So... Where do these coordinates point to?"

"A place called Orthros."

Eyes narrowed. It sounded awfully familiar, but nothing in recent memory filled the gaps. A mere abstract name lodged in the back of her mind - as if once mentioned by a forgotten childhood friend describing their relative's winter home. "Where would that be?"

"It’s in a barren system I think. We can follow the coordinates more closely when we arrive, since I could not find much useful information on the system. But we are more than halfway there!"

A piercing tone followed by an echoing click resounded from the fueling equipment. Path cooed and scrambled to clean up. Efficiently did he reseal the ship's reserves and begin retracting the fuel lines. Once satisfied with a job well done, he hopped back into the ship with Wraith.

Path slowed his prancing while the bay doors shut their maw. His little red light was focused upon Wattson. 

At some point she had finally stirred, readjusting her body after laying so long. Wattson now faced away from the wall, though her big orange hood was pulled almost entirely over her face. One limp arm jutted over the edge of the bench as she lay half-way sunk into oblivion. 

Path let out a choice few short tests of his voice until he finally locked down that quiet, collected tone. He bent low to meet Wraith at eye-level. "She looks very lonely."

Somehow the statement dug its fingers into her already broken heart. "Yeah."

Her hand mindlessly drifted to her chest, pressing against the ache. She didn't want Natalie to be alone. While Path returned wordlessly to the cockpit, so did Wraith quietly drift towards Natalie's side. Her approach went unnoticed.

The girl's head was near the end of the bench, where the length of cushion was halted by the steel wall of the bulkhead. Wraith sank to the floor next to the booth, leaning back against that cold steel. The acceleration of the dropship taking off was gentle enough for her to keep her body steady where it sat. Natalie didn't even move. Her forearm still lay limp where it stuck out over the edge of the seat. It was a hook dangling before her, and Wraith felt herself caught line and sinker before she even ventured to reach out.

Did she dare tell her? It was likely now wasn’t the right time, but it was also just as likely there would be no more "right times". Wraith couldn't bear it. She wanted Natalie to know.

Their fingers met. She hadn't realized she'd moved her hand into Natalie's until the touch came. Neither pulled away. Wraith's thumb traced along her knuckles, following the insulated seam where the blue in Natalie's glove met black. 

Her gaze loosened and lost its focus as she savored the comfort in the touch, even in the absence of any reciprocation. Their hands together like this... it reminded her of that fateful day back on Talos, in the pit of the Epicenter. Natalie had taken her hand then in this very manner. 

Wraith bowed her head. It felt like a distant dream by now; yet still, time had only brought Natalie and her closer together than she ever would have dared to hope. And despite how incredibly lucky she had been, Wraith wished it were possible to push things just a little further.

Realistically, she didn't have a hope. Only earlier, this very same day, she had reinforced her stalwart walls against any advance from Natalie. That could very easily have been the moment she'd lost her final chance. Natalie was falling away.

Path launched the Goblin into its last jump, and from the startle of its less-than-subtle lurch did Natalie’s fingers clench around hers. 

“Hey,” Wraith whispered. Carefully she enclosed a second hand around her friend's. “You awake in there?”

“Mhm.”

That mumble had been so small, so weak; Wraith desperately wished to scoop her up into an ardent embrace. But she daren’t assume she was allowed.

With breathing shallowed, she settled for a quieter admittance, though just as eager. She pulled Natalie's fingers closer, and pressed her lips to gloved knuckles. She didn’t think her tattered heart was capable of flight, but when she felt Natalie squeeze her hand a little tighter, it sprung clear out of her chest.

Stay calm. This selfishness must be stifled. With all things considered, Wraith knew the only thing she deserved to even ask from Natalie was forgiveness.

Wraith reached towards the girl, ensuring her hand drifted through Natalie's half-obscured field of view before trailing her fingers delicately across the rim of the orange fabric covering her head. 

"May I?"

She caught the dip of a nod as her cue. Delicately did Wraith push back the covering to free blond hair. At some point prior Natalie had released herself from the inner blue hood, and Wraith felt a knoll engorge itself in her throat when she saw why. 

The fingermarks left by Caustic had swollen into rainbow bruises ridging up the side of her face like a glaring flag. Season after season of relentless combat did little to desensitize Wraith to her friend's pain. The sight of Nat hurt stuck a skewer through Wraith's gut, especially knowing it was by the hands of someone they had once so blindly trusted.

Natalie's eyebrows puckered in confused response to Wraith's heartbroken stare. 

"God, Nat..." She tucked the girl’s hand tight against her chest, and with the other she carefully lowered a tender touch to blond hair. "How bad does it hurt?"

A shrug came from Natalie, but Wraith didn't fail to see the grimace pinch her eyelids when she tested her jaw to speak. 

She could have sworn her heartrate doubled. So desperate was Wraith to help. She made a move to stand, fully intending to let Natalie go in favor of searching through their gear for a first-aid kit. But the hand within hers clenched into a steely grip. When she looked down at her friend, she saw round blues staring back.

Natalie reached up with her spare hand to feel out her swollen cheek. Another wince tightened her countenance. 

"I'm sorry... Sit with me?" Natalie's voice was small, the words half-slurred through the puffiness. "Please, just for a little longer."

Wraith's fear crumbled into confusion at the thought of Nat still wanting her near. But she had no intention of turning her down. "Don't worry, we can sit all you want. Just let me get some of this stuff to bring down the swelling."

With still-curious eyes, the girl pushed herself upright and released her. Hastily did Wraith rummage about for that first-aid. Syringe packs usually held lighter bandaging along with the standard injection - adhesive tapes, low-grade stitches, painkilling salve. It was the latter of which she had in mind. 

"Why the fuss..." Natalie muttered, primarily to herself.

"Natalie-" Wraith said it in warning, but the word leaving her lips sounded so dangerously close to a plea. She thought she recognized Natalie's tone, brimming with the same self-depreciation that Wraith had often used herself when spitting at a ghostly reflection in her mirror back home.

She returned to Natalie's side, salve in hand, but the medication was nearly forgotten when two sets of blue eyes met again. Wraith didn't care how much her face bled with worry. She knelt into the bench between the bulkhead and a bewildered Natalie. Shucking a glove, Wraith dared to reach her hand up - like she had tried before - and delicately she brushed the back of her knuckles across the less-swollen side of her friend's face. Natalie didn't stop her this time.

Eyes drifted away from their contact. With the cap twisted off the vial of salve, Wraith set to work. Gentle fingers spread the medication across purple and green skin. Natalie's eyes were held low, and the deepening crease in her brow could have easily deterred Wraith's touch if it weren't for the turn of her bruised cheek allowing better access.

"Can't believe that bastard did this,” Wraith grumbled.

"I brought it on myself," her patient replied. "His hand seized up when I electrocuted him. At least his gloves were insulated, no?"

Wraith felt her throat closing again as she tended to the girl. Barely did she manage to apply the last of the salve before her fingers began to tremble. And such tremors seized Natalie's attention. 

"Wraith… why? This has all been my fault."

That sent her reeling. Not once did it occur to her that Natalie was the one to blame. For any of this.

In lieu of a response, Wraith cupped her hand around the back of the young woman’s neck, where the gold strands of her nape fastened themselves to the residual gel still clinging to Wraith's fingers. With a hesitant tug she pulled Natalie even closer, but what to do when they were close enough, she hadn’t yet decided. Wraith just needed her to know...

Her feet were poised at edge of the diving board, yet Wraith stuttered on the precipice. She couldn't do this. Whether it was the right moment or not, she couldn’t be sure. Cold eyes slid shut as she guided Natalie closer until a tuft of blond bangs was pressed against her own forehead.

It was an open invitation - an offer, a request, a _plea_ for Natalie to attempt again that same advance which Wraith had already deflected herself more than once.

Arcs of electricity within her chest flushed the breath from her lungs and levitated her mind with a lightheaded buzz. The silence from Natalie only strengthened the sensation with each passing heartbeat.

She was scared. That, she would never admit to a soul; but Wraith was terrified of the answer to a question she couldn’t even muster the courage to ask. A loathsome hope within mercilessly dragged her with silk-lined chains out of the cage that had her imprisoned as lost cause.

She wouldn't dare give in to such hope. And so she substituted her question with an action. Wraith tilted her face up, and with a tentative touch pressed her lips to Natalie's brow. A mere show of reassurance, of comfort.

Her friend had before been gazing at her with perplexed wonder, but now as eyelids fluttered shut, Natalie leaned into the kiss. Wraith hardly expected such a response. Suddenly the chaste touch wasn't enough.

Her lips slid in a lazy arc over the girl's brow until they reached a temple, where Wraith pressed another kiss. Natalie continued to push into her space in return, even tilting her head to allow Wraith an easier path to trail those kisses down her scarred cheek to the splotchy bruise left by Caustic's thumb.

Slender fingers had knotted themselves in her scarf by now. Just as Wraith attempted to trace her lips around the bruise, edging towards the corner of Nat's mouth, the dropship in which they rode keened with a sudden deceleration from the Goblin slipping out of its jump. Neither woman was prepared. Wraith reeled backwards, her shoulders smashing into the bulkhead with the weight of Natalie collapsing atop her.

The tiniest whine squeaked out of the girl’s throat. For a breathless instant, Wraith thought she'd overstepped, and cursed her lapse of inhibition. But then Natalie ducked her face into the folds of the scarf, from which the electricity crackling about Wraith's chest sparked a rush of heated blood to her face at their position.

Her shoulders were flush against the bulkhead, legs across the bench, and a young woman tucked into her lap.

Natalie gradually let the black fabric slip from her face. Ever so faintly she whispered, "Toi- you... I can't believe..."

“Huh?” Wraith sat, still in shock that Natalie hadn’t pulled away.

“I just might be the luckiest-”

“We’re here friends!” Path’s muffled voice filtered through to them.

With a sheepish smile, Natalie pushed herself to her feet. Subconsciously reaching after her, Wraith hinged on those cut-off words. Strong hands gripped her outstretched hands and helped hoist her to her feet. There they stared at one another, searching in breathless silence. 

Wraith scolded her greedy self for wanting more from that moment, but from the captivated look upon Natalie’s face… Perhaps they almost had something.

The cockpit door slid open, allowing Path’s voice to reach them unabated. “This place looks wrong.”

The two stepped over to the doorway, both tugged by curiosity at Path’s words.

Through the view of the Goblin’s blastwindow lay a small moon. Wraith’s lips peeled open in wonder at the sight of its shattered body.

“Is that…”

“That’s Orthros.” Path mourned, “I don’t think I’ll find my creator here.”

"You took us to the Typhon system?" Nat gawked, leaning closer to the cockpit windows. "Pathy... I could have told you there was nothing here..."

Wraith meanwhile scowled as she stared at the moon above. She knew this system once, didn't she?

"What happened here?" She asked.

"Bon sang, you don't know either?"

 _"Count yourself lucky, Blasey."_ A venomous voice sneered over the droning of the rest of the Others. Her tone sent a shudder through Wraith, but she managed to give Natalie a small shake of the head in response. 

"Well..." The girl gave a calculating glance at the moon. "Turn us a hundred degrees to the left, Pathy."

"Copy that."

Wraith braced herself against the swerve of the ship until there it finally came. Against the reddened palette of nearby nebulae and the galaxy beyond, cool tones of the once-planet Typhon spread across her field of view. In a synchronized movement, Wraith's eyelids rounded wide and her jaw dropped to match the feeling of a sinkhole gaping open within her chest. Though her eyes may have been bleached like pearls, she didn't need the renewed clamoring of the Others to tell her. She recognized that planet. Despite its shape having been shattered and remolded into a tightly-packed tinfoil ball by years of residual gravity, she knew this place, indisputably.

"Wraith?" Natalie's query parted the sea of voices.

She couldn't tear her eyes away. "That's my home."

"Quoi?!"

"You were created here too?" Path spun his head around to look at her. "It's like we were meant to be friends from the beginning!"

"Path-" Nat shushed him with a hand on his shoulder before her concerned eyes returned to Wraith. "Are you sure? This place has been abandoned for decades."

Wraith blinked hard, trying to jar her head and scour her memory. How did she know this place? There were only faded images in her mind, tattered and obscured. Infantile memories of blue mountains, migrating fliers, pink-petaled springtimes. 

She pressed her fingers to the crown of her forehead, as if that could possibly help. They were there. For the first time in her life, Wraith could _feel_ the memories there in the confines of her buried mind, and that was enough to spark a fire in her heart. "I don't remember enough. But I-"

_"You'll remember if you just listen."_

Wraith halted and returned her white gaze to the planet before her. 

"Maybe you were just l'enfant when you and your family left this place," Natalie offered, but her words were lost upon Wraith's unhearing ears.

_"It was never destroyed in your reality, was it?"_

"No..." Wraith's mouth remained ajar as she realized. 

_"Heh, explains why you're so weak."_

Oh, now she placed the voice. Voidwalker, naturally. She pursed her lips, but then decided to reiterate Blasey's words aloud. "It was never destroyed in my reality."

Vaguely, she saw Natalie's mouth pop open into a confused circle. Path might have said something in response; she wasn't sure. Her peripheral was fading while her ears strained to sort through the chorus of voices and ensure she didn't miss the Voidwalker's words. 

_"My family died down there when the IMC fell. Had to fight and claw my own way to get where I'm at. What about you?"_

"I don't know. Don't- can't remember." Blasey drew near, like a breath upon her neck. Wraith could almost feel the Voidwalker pressing up behind her, and that alone snapped upright the hairs of her nape.

_"You had the support of others your whole life. Up until the end."_

Her head lolled forward, both hands now drifting up to push against either temple. She felt faint as her consciousness fully trained on the excavation of memory. Maybe the Voidwalker was the key to her answers, despite the cross-dimensional malefic aura the woman emanated.

_"I've done some digging on your life here. I know what you had."_

Her eyes shot open. "You know?"

Long fingers were encircling her wrist, but Wraith weakly recoiled as she strained to focus. 

_"Everything. I know everything."_ She could almost hear a smirk in Blasey's voice. _"And you had_ everything _. But you couldn't even make senior pilot.”_

She was being led to a seat. Wraith wrenched her arm away and returned to the cockpit, staring desperately at the barren Typhon. Path had returned to the stick, angling their orbit closer and closer to the planet's weak atmosphere. Reentry would shortly be rattling the Goblin craft. 

"Where did you learn all this..." She growled to thin air. 

_"Singh. Decided to see what I could get out of him as he slowly died. You were just an annoying, over-zealous intern to him. Completely disposable. So, naturally, when you volunteered for the first phase-tech tests, he gladly accepted."_

Wraith's hands gripped the frame of the doorway she stood under. They were in atmosphere, rattling through Typhon's baby blue fog with all the serenity of an off-roading car. "Why even tell me?"

_"Because there's a choice you're going to have to make, very soon."_

"Wraith!!!" Anxious hands were clamped down on her shoulders, but she could still barely hear anyone's voice apart from the Others. "Wraith, please look at me!"

Oh how she tried, but as her ghostly pale eyes fell upon Natalie, the Voidwalker snickered.

 _"It's about her~"_ She teased Wraith with a sing-song voice. 

With another, much more strained hiss, she felt her body be snatched up into a violent tug of war. Her fists clenched. Uncertainty had scrunched her face into a brow-knitted, wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression that painted an all-too-clear picture to Natalie.

"Don't listen to them, mon amie."

"I can’t ignore it," she countered. Wraith's eyes fluttered when she felt Natalie's fingers soothingly pry into the stiff muscles of her shoulders. "I owe her."

The young woman shook her head. "There you go with that talk again."

 _"You owe me_ her _."_

"What?" Wraith blurted out to Blasey, lifting her eyes and tilting her head to show Natalie she was addressing another. 

_"I told you once I had to leave my reality to find what I was looking for."_

"And that maybe I'd have to do the same to get what I wanted," Wraith echoed. Her gaze returned to Natalie's. The truth she had sought when she first joined the Games still eluded her, but that seemed to matter less and less. Whatever she could find here would be about the Voidwalker, not herself. And the more she learned about the Blasey that once lived here, the less interested she became. Besides… Wraith had found something else anyway...

_"Well, that was the wrong road. What you're looking for is still here. Found it for you. The memories, everything. All here waiting for you to pick it back up from where you abandoned it to work for Singh."_

At the mere thought, Wraith's face melted into a yearning gaze upon Natalie.

The two were jostled into each other as the dropship finally touched down upon Typhon. With her face hidden in Nat's shoulder, Wraith heard more than saw Pathfinder come moseying along through the passenger bay. 

_"C'mon, Blasey."_

Path waved at the two women he passed. "I found the factory where my coordinates point to! Will you be okay, friends, if I go investigate?"

"We can go with you, Path," Wraith volunteered, weakly attempting to compose herself. A screech from the Voidwalker halted her with a grimace. 

Natalie guided her towards the passenger benches while Path looked worriedly on. "I'll look after her. Be careful out there."

With a stretch of his arms, Path pointed his thumbs to the well-kitted Havoc resting on his back before striking a flexing pose. "Not to worry! I will be back soon."

The bay doors opened to reveal a soft, blue-green morning landscape sprawling beyond the edge of a landing dock. Their MRVN wasted no time in prancing overboard and onward towards the nearby abandoned factory. 

_"You can't ignore me forever."_

"What do you want?" Wraith grumbled against the voice.

_"Her."_

The word hit her mind like flint to steel, igniting rage within. "What?!"

_"Don’t tell me you made the fatal mistake of getting attached to her. She was never meant to be yours. I've looked. Wattson doesn't even exist in this reality."_

The multiverse was inconsequential to her. Wraith had told herself this numerous times. Still those words caused her to cling tightly to Nat, afraid that the Voidwalker's suggestion alone could make her disappear.

"What happened to her?" Wraith thoughtlessly asked. There was no possible good the answer could do her. 

_"Her father was eliminated for smuggling Hammond intellectual property to the Militia. The Paquettes were ended long before Wattson could be conceived."_

Wraith almost whimpered into the arms holding her. To think how easily she could have lived and died in a universe without Natalie...

_"Your vacation's over, Blasey. The universe with Typhon is your home. The one with Wattson is mine. Time to wake up and return to reality."_

Lifting her head, she watched the sheen of Natalie’s eyes waver before her. There was a time, only earlier today, where she might have relinquished. But the hope within her had strengthened, fueled by the emotion in Natalie’s glances. For the first time, Wraith found herself beginning to believe this world might give her a future with the woman she so loved. "No." 

_"I didn’t hear that."_

Wraith pulled away from Nat with a seething growl. Being caged with an insufferable cellmate in the confines of her own skull spurred her into a mad pace about the passenger bay. "Yes you did. I said no!"

A menacing chuckle from beyond. _"Only a matter of time. Renee. I'll be coming to take my place back."_

So why hadn't she already? Unless... Of course. "You don't have the tech."

_"I have the IMC."_

"Then you stay with the IMC. I'm staying with Nat." She sensed the girl rise to her feet nearby.

_"We can either trade peacefully, or I remove you from both dimensions permanently. Doesn't matter to me. You're just another instance, right?"_

"I'm staying!" 

"Wraith..." Natalie gazed at her with concern, bringing a hand again to rest upon Wraith’s shoulder. “What’s happening?”

The Voidwalker growled at that touch, almost possessively. _"Guess I have no choice."_

Exasperated, Wraith pressed her palms to her head before thrashing her arms outward in a warning gesture. She bucked her head back and shouted, "Get the HELL out of here already!!"

The touch at her shoulder shied away, after which Wraith spun to face Natalie. “No, no no, not you…!”

“I know,” the girl reassured quietly, her hands clutched to her own chest.

"I'm staying here, Natalie.” Wraith’s voice almost shook, “I promise you."

She nodded, face low. A tearful grimace began to tug at Wraith’s countenance, despite her best efforts to suppress it.

Natalie whispered out, “Please talk to me. What are they saying?”

“It was her…” Wraith wasn’t sure she wanted to explain. She didn’t even know how to explain to Natalie her lack of an existence in another dimension. “It was the Blasey from this reality. She wants to return.”

Natalie’s jaw slowly dropped. Carefully she stepped forward, sliding her hands into Wraith's. It felt safe, like Nat could anchor her to this reality through the contact. 

“She can’t force you, can she?”

“I won’t let her,” said Wraith. Rage sifted through her bones at just the thought of one of her Others tearing them apart.

But the Voidwalker's story carried a haunt with its implications.

In one dimension did Hammond end Natalie's father; while in this one, their former puppet hovered on the edge for the opportunity to strike the last vestige of her family. No way there could be a coincidence here. The Paquettes undoubtedly carried baggage from their past, decorated with Hammond decals.

And Hammond ties had long become entangled with the Syndicate. Concern next knitted Wraith's expression.

“Can I ask you something, Nat?” She ventured hesitantly. “About your dad?”

"Qu-" Natalie almost questioned her in response, but cut herself short. With a preparatory sigh, she nodded and returned to the passenger booth. “Go ahead.”

“Did he even want you joining the Games? From the impression I get, it's hard to believe he’d be okay with you fighting in a bloodsport.” Wraith wasn’t sure that was the right question, but maybe it would lead to the right answer.

“We never discussed it.” Natalie wrapped her arms about herself as Wraith sat next to her. “Now that I think about it, it probably never even occurred to him as a possibility. I was only there to study and help him with his work.”

A sheepish smile.

“I didn’t even know how to hold a gun until Ajay and Anita showed me.”

“They were the ones who invited you to the Games, right?”

“Oui, and Makoa and-”

“-Caustic.” Wraith stated, quietly gauging her friend’s reaction.

Sadness. “He never said a word. I was so naïve to assume he cared...”

Natalie bowed her head into her hands, to which Wraith lowered her own eyes. “He wanted you back on your feet, and somewhere he could keep an eye on you.”

“I still got an official invitation from the Syndicate. C'est effrayant, he has so much power of influence.”

Wraith frowned. Though she'd assumed before that Caustic had wanted to keep Natalie near, it didn't make sense he'd be so willing to expose her to the dangers of the Games. Was Caustic truly the cause behind Natalie’s invitation? Or was it Hammond trying to control the last Paquette through the Syndicate?

She reached for the girl’s elbow, missing her weight from how Natalie had laid upon her before their arrival upon Typhon. Nothing felt quite as secure as having her in her arms.

A near inaudible whimper came, “I’m sorry.”

"Hm?"

"I'm so sorry." Her heart fell at that tone.

"Nat, please." Wraith’s lowered voice rattled as it dug across the floor of her throat.

The girl murmured, "It was my fault from the beginning."  
  
"No- what are you talking about?"

Natalie’s head was hung. "The doctor. I should have known. He was there the whole time. He even helped me test the Ring and inspect the arena after the first Hunt. How could I not have seen it was him?"

"We didn't know him for who he really was." Pain sunk its hooks into Wraith’s countenance. To learn that Natalie had been withdrawing out of guilt somehow hurt more than any possible form of rejection. “It was nothing you did, or failed to do.”

"I'm so..." Natalie keeled forward, returning her face again to the safety of Wraith’s scarf. "I'm so confused. I'm angry, but I'm not. I'm just- j'sais pas. I don't- I..."

Wraith enclosed her arms around her friend's shoulders, savoring the sinking plush of her jacket. She was so soft to hold; Wraith never wanted to let her go. Her chest raced at the proximity, and she was barely able to restrain herself from pulling the girl into her lap. Natalie stilled in response.

Deep breaths came next, and after a few beats, Wraith realized Nat was timing her breaths with the near audible thumping of Wraith's own heart. Inhale, two, three, four. Exhale, two, three, four.   
  
It became as settling a rhythm for herself as it was for the one in her arms. 

After a spell, Nat lifted gloved fingers to trace along her own face where Wraith’s lips had earlier touched. Softly she mumbled out, "I still can’t believe... this. To think you'd even want to- ...you're not mad at me?"

She was so taken aback she might as well have been blown off a ledge by a frag. "Oh, no Natalie... Never. I'm the one who should be sorry, you know. Should've found a way to tell you about him so much sooner."

"So you knew for a while then, did you?"

"I- ...yeah. A little while after Gibraltar came by that one time." Her body was growing rigid, waiting for the moment Natalie would pull away in indignation. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I asked not to talk about him, didn’t I? I never gave you a chance..."

Wraith stared breathlessly down at the one settling even further into her arms. Unfathomable that she continued to blame herself through all this.

The girl went on, “You and Crypto went through so much trouble because of him and me. If only I had listened to the truth before-”

“Stop, Natalie.” Wraith cut her off. “His hand was in this for months, even before Loba joined up.”

“But…”

“No. I know you’re still mad, but please don’t turn that on yourself.”

For a moment, a thoughtful silence draped over both of them. 

Natalie's voice remained mournful when she spoke again. “I suppose... For a while I thought I was angry with you, Wraith, and assumed you felt the same towards me. I really must have been frustrated with myself most of all. It was so frightening to think I might be losing you…”

Wraith’s hands subconsciously gripped her shoulders tighter, like she just couldn’t hold her close enough. The tiny flame of a dwindling candle within her sparked with new life. That stubborn hope inside her trudged on under its light.

It grew into a new warmth churning about within her. Her heart sounded like a hammering forge, wherein, maybe, the cracks of her weary conscience could be beaten out and smoothed away.

“Maybe...” Natalie spoke carefully, as if she were afraid of saying the wrong thing. “-Maybe that wasn’t the case?”

A nod from Wraith. “We were both angry, but never with each other.”

When Natalie next pulled back, both sets of eyes fell to where their hands pooled together between them. Semblances of Caustic's voice rumbled through Wraith's memory. He had openly admitted that his intentions were to condition Natalie into an undistracted, unapologetic slave to science, just like himself. Natalie's riddance of him was of utmost importance. 

“He’s only trying to tear your friends away from you, and we both know that’s impossible to do," said Wraith. "They're your family, and they love you. All of them.”

“T'incluant?” A tiny whisper, so tiny Wraith almost missed it.

“Huh?”

Though Wraith kept her voice soft, Natalie tensed. “...Do you? M'aimes?”

That was an invitation, undeniably. The one she had been silently begging for. Small words carried the power of a tuning fork as they prodded Wraith once again to the peak of her diving board.

She couldn't avoid the jump this time. From the precipice of a shattered dam she would be falling, hard and fast, until the impact of truth came. She could only hope there was something, _anything_ at the bottom to catch her. But this was her chance to take that first step off the edge.

“Yeah. More than I ever thought I could… He won't ever be able to drive me away from you, and I'll never wanna erase any of the time we’ve spent together.” Wraith’s eyes wrenched shut as the words boiled over and out of her throat. “You’re so much more than family now, Nat… You’r-”

Her lungs turned to stone when there came a feather-light pinch at her upper lip, for just a second, before drifting on.

Silken chains had led her home. Plush arms had snatched her out of freefall. Wraith’s eyes snapped open, greeted by the glowing face of the young woman pulling back just far enough to read her reaction. The unforgiving pull that had tugged her towards Natalie for months multiplied exponentially in strength.

Her chest quivered back to life at the gentle smile spreading across Natalie’s healing face. “More than family, Wraith.”

With that, she could no longer resist, couldn’t stifle herself any further. Wraith flung herself into this newfound freedom like an uncaged flock scattering into the skies. Her heart was soaring. Her chance was alive. Natalie was here.

She had her hands cupped about Natalie’s face before she’d even realized she was moving. Slender fingers encircled her wrists to hold them in place, and the two met again - this time in tandem. Wraith pressed into Natalie, pouring her heart into the kiss with earnest. In return she felt Natalie’s smile tugging at lips that were inconceivably softer than anything Wraith had yet to experience.

It could very easily be joy that was flinging itself about within her. A tickle like a boisterous spider danced around her fragmented heart. The pieces of her conscience were caught in its web now. Maybe with time... this new resident could thread those shattered pieces together. A cocoon of healing to reseal her heart with gilded scars. 

Wraith encircled her arms to drape around insulated shoulders, thanks to this boldness surging from within. And when Natalie returned her embrace, their kisses only became more breathless and erratic. 

Old urges were bubbling back up from deep in her gut. Bypassing her brain, they swirled about her limbs and dictated her movements. Before she knew it, Natalie had been pulled just off balance enough for her weight to press Wraith back into the corner of the booth.

With their bodies now flush together, Nat's touch seemed to spill warmth directly into her bloodstream. High voltage followed the young woman's fingers as they drifted up Wraith's body. They reached her face, tracing over and past her cheeks until they met behind her head. A mesmerizing tingle was left in their wake. 

Finally Wraith broke the kiss with a shutter when she felt fingertips threading through her messily tied hair until they dragged across her scalp. Natalie too ducked away after they parted, nuzzling her way into her favorite place within Wraith's scarf.

Stunned and lightheaded, Wraith could only hold onto the girl for dear life. She felt Nat's body lurch with what felt like a sob, but with her face so close, the giggle that escaped her was clearly audible. 

Natalie's touch continued dancing through her hair. “How could I be so lucky to have someone like you...”

Behind her voice, in the background, Wraith could faintly hear metal rattling in a tightly fixed rhythm, drawing closer and closer. But being in Natalie’s arms, pinned under her body, Wraith could barely muster a care in the world. She had never felt safer. The young woman’s touch had utterly silenced the Others, and Wraith shared their awe.

Nat actually wanted her. Her! The stray ghost with not even a house to haunt. The amnesiac with a personality shattered, and its fragments sent drifting through space and time. The experiment from a failed world, slated for termination. 

Across the cold interdimensional planes of the multiverse she had traversed in search of her past. Little had she known that her future was searching for her in turn. And Natalie thought herself lucky? Wraith could have so easily been dragged back to her own reality before she had the chance to be discovered and loved. 

Metal clattering was now bouncing into the dropship bay. Pathfinder had returned to their sanctuary. 

He paused as he watched the two women sluggishly sit up on the bench. A question mark pinged first upon his expression, only to shortly burst into a collage of hearts and excitement. He began to bob from foot to foot, twiddling his fingers until he finally calmed himself with a decisive clap. “You two are very sweet!”

Wraith hadn’t noticed the heat in her own cheeks, but now it very tangibly burned through her scalp. She grinned sheepishly at her old friend.

But then Path’s heart eyes snapped a one-eighty into blue tears. His arms drooped to his side and he swiveled about to exit the ship. 

“Now I miss _my_ girlfriend.”

“Oh no, Pathy…” Natalie almost laughed under her voice, hand held to her lips to contain herself.

Wraith scrambled unsteadily to her feet. Her head still spun, but what better way to ground herself than to tuck Nat’s arm next to hers. Having the touch of the woman she loved at her fingertips… too good to be true. 

"Hey Path," she called out through the bay doors. "How'd your trip go? Everything okay?"

"I don't know, friend." His voice was lowered with simulated sadness. He stood despondently upon the landing dock, facing the spread of Typhon mountains before them. "I don't think it's possible for me to find my creator."

"What makes you think that? I'm sure we can still track him down."

Path pointed back towards the factory. "There's 1041 other me's in there. From what I know about fathers, I do not think one would be able to have that many sons."

"True," said Natalie. "It wasn't one single person that created you."

"But there must have been someone who invented the me that turned into all these other me's! Is that how it works?"

"The inventor of the MRVN?"

"Yes!"

"The technology has been around for centuries." Natalie explained somberly. "The creator of the original concept has been gone for a long time."

"Maybe he could find the person currently holding the licensing rights to MRVN tech." Wraith volunteered. 

"Perhaps..." The girl nodded, causing Path to perk up with rebounded excitement. "But that would lead us to Hammond Robotics."

His bouncing stopped. "Revenant’s creator?"

"They're responsible for his state, yes." Natalie said, "And they have been manufacturing MRVNs and other frames for many years."

"So... my original creator is truly gone? I was just made in a factory like all those others?"

Both women pouted at Path's sinking mood. "I'm sorry, Pathy. But maybe we have time to contact Hammond, and you can meet someone there... like the director of operations for MRVN manufacturing. Perhaps they could tell you more about where you came from!"

Path's head was low, his lamp focused upon his fidgeting fingers. "I would like that."

Wraith watched Nat strive to encourage Path. Indiffusible, as always. A well of encouragement for any who might be trudging through their own desert of despair.

But Hammond concerned her, especially in the shadow the Voidwalker had cast. With the state of Loba's mission still teetering with indecision, their relationship with the company hung by a thread. How she hated the blooming idea that it was Hammond that had something out for Nat.

Yet Revenant didn’t kill for Hammond, she reminded herself. He killed to spite them. He would only cooperate with them under the promise of deactivation... and even that was not a guarantee. 

"I'm sorry I brought you all the way out here for nothing, friends. It didn't seem to be the most pleasant trip."

"No, no," Wraith was quick to respond. She stuffed her worries back under a tightly screwed lid. "It was... much better than we planned. I think we all learned a lot."

A knowing silence fell upon them, hounded by an unspoken discussion - where to go next. It wasn’t like they could just fly back to the Games. There was no telling what the Syndicate might do to them should they show their faces in populated space again.

But then came a sudden burst like a gunshot in an empty gymnasium lost in orbit. Each set of eyes lifted to the clouds barely visible above the morning fog. High in the distance was a rogue Goblin, having been dropped out of a jump within Typhon airspace.

Static crackled to life from within their own jumpship: someone was signaling over an open-frequency broadcast. Wraith strode towards the cockpit to better hear. 

It was Bangalore's voice.

"-ler five-three calling Prowler two-two! I know you're here somewhere, report in!"

Path and Nat crowded around on either side of her as they all listened, transfixed by Bangalore's urgent words.

"Prowler five-three, tracking Prowler two-two. We're incoming ASAP. Wherever you ladies are down there, you better be okay!"

"This doesn't sound good," mumbled Nat as she pushed past Wraith towards the dashboard. With a switch flipped, she sent their response. "Ça va, we're alright. What's going on?"

"Natalie! Good to hear ya, keep your profile low until we get there!"

Wraith stepped forward. "What’s are you even doing here?"

"Long story, pilot. In one word? Revenant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> never rly written anything quite like this before, so feedback is welcomed
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	10. A Path to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not an easy chapter to write, and i found myself not as eager to proofread it as i've been with previous chpts, but it's ready to go for now. it's downhill from here, for me at least
> 
> enjoy (sorry)

**A Path to Remember**

That name of his was the last thing Wraith wanted to hear. 

There may not have been much left in this life that she feared, but today was a day of constant bombardment from those worries that remained. There was no respite from every frightening shell that exploded around them. Voidwalker’s story, her possessive threats, Revenant, and each implication thereof… They all rained down upon Wraith like artillery. And with Natalie closer than ever, so were the stakes heightened farther than she could ever have forseen.

Wraith leaned over the dashboard to respond, tentatively. “...What about him?”

“We’ll explain when we get there.” The soldier's voice was rushed, and breathless with what sounded like relief. “Hang tight.”

Pathfinder sauntered out the back of the dropship to watch for their arrival, and Natalie would have done the same if Wraith hadn’t reflexively snatched up her hand. 

A pout. “We’ll be okay, Wraith.”

She had still been staring at the cockpit console, but with Natalie’s words, Wraith managed a glance aside at the blond. There she found a smile and a tug at her hand to match the tug in her heart.

“We’re okay,” Nat reaffirmed.

Wraith kept her eyes fastened upon her as she was led from the dropship. Though she felt safe under Nat’s touch, the chattering continued to sift throughout her head. From these voices she awaited that warning of danger.

“This is gonna be bad.”

“We’ve faced Revenant more than once," Nat replied with steady words. "We’ll do so again. He’s only a scary machine. Would you be worried about him if he were just a human?”

“‘Course not.” Wraith retorted, suddenly defensive. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Je sais, ma amour.”

Such fond words paired themselves with a knowing look, and together they Wraith from multiple blind sides. Nat saw right through her, somehow. She saw Revenant’s special hold upon Wraith. Whether she let herself believe it or not, her own body would never forgo the chance to remind her of the damage he had done. Wraith’s free hand spread over her own midriff. She was only denying her fear to herself. 

Stepping out in the open, the trio had a clear view to watch the others’ dropship spit from between white clouds like a bar of soap. Together they waited for the newcomers to touch down upon the landing dock. 

It was a concerned crowd that exited. Bangalore, Loba, and Che, all hustling to inspect their AWOL legends. Che almost tackled Natalie into a hug.

"We's worried like hell 'bout the three a' ya."

"Any commotion down here, ladies?" Bangalore addressed them, with eyes shifting aside at Loba who was busying herself with her banner's map. 

Wraith shook her head. "It's been quiet. What's all this about Revenant?"

Loba absentmindedly commented as she continued to scan the area. "Things got ugly when you left."

"Can we get the full story?"

"Yeah yeah, fine." Bangalore rubbed the back of her head. "You pissed both him and Caustic off when you jumped ship. Guess they had different motives for attacking you, and blamed one other for your escape. So, of course, being dumbasses and all, they went for each others' throats after the game."

"Ain't a pretty sight," Che interjected.

"Nuh, it wasn't. Caustic came out on top though."

A sigh from Loba. "Selfish old men... They just love to complicate things."

"Rev's dead?" Wraith asked.

"That was just one body of his," explained Loba. "He has many in reserve all over the Outlands. When one dies, he's reuploaded and activated in another."

Natalie shifted. "And that brought you here? Wouldn't he be reactivated from the reserves where his source code is held? I thought he was in Psamathe."

Loba quirked an eyebrow. Strange that Natalie knew such a detail, Wraith would admit. 

Bangalore was the one to elaborate, "Revenant still has a target, and it appears someone is relaying tracking information to his source code. We're not sure exactly who that someone might be, but their target’s definitely one of you. It pulled the source code here to Typhon so that he could be reactivated at the nearest proximity."

Wraith's eyes had rounded wide by now, but she reinforced her grip on her composure. "So you came for the source code."

"Yes and no. Syndicate commissioned me and Ajay to come pick Rev up and bring him back to the Games. Apparently they don’t think he’ll be a threat, with how he’s been reset and all.”

Che nodded from where she now leaned casually upon Nat’s shoulder. “Everybody else is startin’ hiatus to keep the damn paparazzi’s eyes off us. Our new rookie should help take care a’ that too, eh?”

“Oh yeah,” Bangalore chuckled. “She’s more than ready for the spotlight. As for Revenant, I’m sure y'all can guess we’re only gonna go so far with this retrieval. Y’know, since we brought Loba and everything."

Skepticism painted a frown upon Wraith's face. There was a gap in this story. "Something I don't get... If he's reset, how does he still have a target?"

Loba looked up from her banner. After a quick purse of the lips in thought, the woman relinquished with an explanation. "I imagine he was an assassin of some sort before he was immortalized. With every death, he's resurrected in a new body with his consciousness locked at a set starting point from somewhere in that original life. From there his target will be sent to him like a dossier."

The woman frowned uneasily down at her map. Wraith felt the tension ease from her body, seeing how there was no attempt from the others to withhold information.

"As we speak," continued Loba. "He is here on this planet, somewhere, blissfully unaware that he is a simulacrum. Though the moment that façade ends, he'll be reminded of each and every death he has suffered since his immortalization. The reaction can be... quite horrendous..."

There came a labored sigh.

"...I used to wish nothing but suffering for him in return for what he has done. But now, with all that has happened, and all that he continues to threat... The only answer is to rid the world of that demónio. He may thank me, but it's the only path to safety."

Wraith could see the haunt that strained her words, thanks in part to Bangalore’s uneasy glance at the woman. Loba had been agonizing over the decision to end Revenant for some time, while deciphering the Psamathe coordinates during her days off. She was obviously ill at ease to be spurred to action so soon. 

A few more taps at her banner, however, and Loba was ready. She faced the group. “We’re not even in the right hemisphere here. The source code lies a few thousand kilometers east-southeast.”

“Well, better mount up then, ladies,” said Bangalore. Looking back at Wraith, she jerked her head in a short gesture. “Keep close to us, hea- ...pilot. Don’t know exactly what kinda place this is we’re heading to.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wraith grumbled. The two squads parted into their respective ships, Che making sure to bump Wraith’s elbow and offer a nod as she passed. She didn’t think much of it in the moment, being distracted by Path’s excited skipping into the Goblin. His upbeat attitude somehow managed to overwhelm the situation at hand. Here they were, on the death march towards what was undoubtedly a Hammond campus, ready to face and end the creature that had haunted Natalie and herself for months upon months. Yet Path took charge with such positive eagerness it was almost conceivable that the three of them could instead be currently escaping to some tropical vacation together.

“Road trip, ladies!” He chittered, slamming himself eagerly into the pilot’s seat. “I will be your chauffeur. So much to see when we get to fly this close to the surface!”

Natalie giggled as she joined him in the cockpit, though her smile would shortly taper away as she gazed upon the surrounding landscape. Be it true that Typhon’s soft atmosphere painted the area with an ethereal haze, it was still a recovering planet. What were once mountains were now jagged and shattered cliffs. Fauna were scarce, and flora scraggily clawed for survival amongst barren rock. And all this from a region that had fared better than most during Typhon's destruction.

Their ship lifted off with Path keeping them close in tow behind Bangalore’s squad. Wraith lifted her eyes, favoring the sight of the sky over the gray slate below. The sun beamed through billowing clouds high overhead, where light and shadow were broken up into prismatic rays that danced across the fog that surrounded them. 

Over the teeth of broken rock and the canyons of carved valleys did they fly, and Nat was slowly filled with wonder at the frequency of settlements that dotted Typhon’s surface.

The clouds were thickening into a dark tower above them from the east. Bangalore’s ship dipped and slowed as they delved into its shadow, and Path followed suit. Turbulence was unavoidable despite their efforts. When windy sheets of rain began to batter against the ship, the three huddled even closer within the cockpit. Wraith kept her hands on the back of Path’s chair to anchor herself, but with Nat’s arm hooked through hers, she felt as if her body was ready to fly out the back of the Goblin.

A particularly harsh wave rattled across them, at which Nat's hands sprung to her ears. Wraith pulled the girl tighter against herself, ready to distract her, or urge Path into a detour, or perhaps eject herself and fight the storm one-on-one. But there on Natalie’s face she saw nothing short of pure fascination. 

With hands pressed to either side of her head, Nat eagerly searched the stormclouds with an open-mouthed smile. They had reached a cavity within the dark, only discernable through how the lights upon the two dropships flickered and bounced off the particle structures of clouds swirling around them. Their accompanying squad was still several hundred meters ahead when Nat whispered out with an awe-laced voice. 

“Slow down a second, Pathy.”

“Heard that. Why, friend?”

Just as he asked, the storm answered. A bolt of lightning struck across the cavity, borne from the clouds grinding against each other. Nat let out an all-too-adorable squeak of excitement. “That!”

The robot clapped with a cooing voice. Wraith breathed out a soft chuckle, blinking hard against the lightning’s blinding effect. 

She glanced aside at Nat. “Incredible timing. How did you know?”

“They say you never know where lightning will strike. Well… _they_ just don’t pay close enough attention. If you know what to look for, there's not much to it!”

Wraith offered a smirk in reply, “Only you would find a way to be modest about predicting lightning.”

“Well, I could tell you where the next will strike.”

"Yeah?" She leaned closer to the blastwindow to study the clouds herself. They were once again in the dark; Path's navigation now relied solely on non-visual sensors. Hardly warranted a worry in Wraith's mind while she pried through the shadows of the storm outside.

Nat's next words were levitated with barely-kept restraint. "Wait for it…"

Wraith strained even further to see, to catch the strike. "Where?"

"Here!" Nat's clear voice chimed in her ear, punctuated by a quick, albeit over-eager kiss to Wraith's cheek.

It hit her like a bolt of lightning alright. Wraith let out an unsuspecting gasp as her body shot upright. Blood flushed into her face, twirling poignantly about that point of contact.

An embarrassed laugh escaped her when her eyes met Natalie's, and the less hostile of the Others cackled along with her. They certainly could have warned her, but it seemed as a collective they decided to let her fall into Nat's trap instead. The young woman before her, meanwhile, clasped her hands together with glee.

"Pardon, I couldn't help myself!"

"You're adorable," Wraith blurted. She didn't give herself the chance to overthink whether or not to say it - the word had entered her mind enough times already when gazing upon Natalie.

In the dim glow of the dashboard lights did Wraith barely catch the color creeping into the girl's wide-eyed face before she hid within the walls of her orange hood. A rumble from cloudy fingers shaking the ship forced Natalie to return a hand to Path's chair.

Wraith chuckled, suddenly bashful. "Guess I couldn't help myself either. Sorry."

In return she was graced with a beaming smile.

Then, Path's voice: "I'm picking something up on my sensors."

Nat rested her free hand on Wraith's arm. "What is it?"

"Are you sure it's not the others?" Asked Wraith.

"I can't be certain…" Path turned his flickering headlamp pointedly at the two women. "But I think it's a plot to make me miss my girlfriend even more than I already do."

A short but hearty laugh from Natalie prompted an amused sigh from Wraith. She rapped a knuckle across the back of Path's head. "Don't be like that."

He had become quite skilled at feigning offense, in response to which Wraith had grown adept at reading his signals. A marvel really, that someone like her could bond with a merely digitized soul. But there was really only one explanation. He had been the first to let her in. Before anyone else, there was Pathfinder. Five long years ago, her scrambling travels had brought her to an abandoned warehouse at the edge of Solace City. There she had found Path, and he in turn found joy in giving her shelter. She was hungry, dirty, homeless; and he was the second person to save her skin. From then on he had stayed with her like a good luck charm. Before Natalie came storming into her life, he had been her closest friend.

"Good work staying on our six," Bangalore's voice broke through the comms. "We're almost ready to descend. Don't lose us in this storm."

"Copy that!" Path responded excitedly, and then his body slumped. "Road trip is almost over."

"Oh, don't worry, Pathy." Nat reassured him, "We have the trip home!"

"Right!"

Bangalore addressed them once more. "Look sharp! On my mark, begin descent at 30 degrees. Got it?"

Path chirped, "Understood!"

"Alright…" All present held quiet for the signal. And then, "Mark!"

Downwards they dived through the underbelly of the storm. A soft gradient began to glow around them from light seeping through the cracks of thinning clouds. Though the glow was as cool as the Typhon sun, it was too blue - obviously artificial. There must be a development lying in wait under the storm’s canopy.

It was an illuminated landing strip that greeted them when they finally burst from the belly of clouds. Amidst cascading rain Path navigated through twin rows of streetlamps, following them to the dark maw of a non-descript cliff. There, just before the cover of the cliffside cave, they saw where their fellow Goblin had touched down. The others were waiting.

Path brought them gently to rest astride before opening the bay doors. The tinny pattering of rain upon steel and concrete filled Wraith’s ears as she gazed over the landing strip.

Daylight had fallen away to a bare stripe of green running across the western horizon, from which no warmth managed to reach this deep into the storm. They seemed to have reached the autumn side of the world, for though the mountains were smoother, and the trees plentiful, all was cold and dark and dormant. 

“Oi Paq!” Wraith heard Che’s call from the dropship across the way. “How many ya got space for in that hoodie? Doc here’s hatin’ the rain.”

“I’ll pick him up!” Nat called back, her brightness seemingly fueled by the storm. She turned to her squadmates. “Let’s not get too wet now.”

For an extra measure, the girl reached towards Wraith. She caught her breath as Nat’s fingers hooked under the back lip of her scarf and pulled the excess cloth over her head. 

Seemingly satisfied, Nat turned to dash out into the open, pulling forward her own hood. Che shoved at an obstinate DOC upon her approach. It was almost enviable, the way Nat took the edges of her coat in hand and threw her arms around the drone to cover it from the rain. Wraith wouldn't mind being enveloped in that kind of embrace. Even a simple gesture from Nat, such as turning her scarf into a hood, had the power to leave Wraith in a flustered stupor. 

After scooping DOC up into a tight hold, Natalie hurried off with Che towards the mouth of the nearby cave, the rest of the squadron close in tow. As soon as they reached shelter from the rain, DOC poked its little head out from the cover of Nat’s jacket. There was no attempt to free itself; the drone was perfectly content in her arms. But DOC did offer its headlamp as aid, strengthening the beam of light until they could better assess their surroundings. It was an abandoned hangar where they had retreated, empty and only large enough for small passenger shuttles.

The chatter between them was quiet and infrequent, and eventually the group spotted an inviting door nestled into the back corner of the hangar. The weight of Hammond's atmosphere was beginning to drape over them. Apprehension took over their pace as they quietly moved forward.

But it was Wraith, and only Wraith, who heard Bangalore’s voice from behind.

“Hey… …Blasey.” The woman’s voice was soft enough to be covered from the others by the rain just outside. Wraith twisted to look back up at her, already unhappy at losing proximity with Natalie. 

Bangalore stood as a stoic silhouette, the features upon her face hidden thanks to the light of a streetlamp outside being eclipsed by her head. Its glow was hugged by the naked arms of a leafless tree, giving Wraith the illusion that those glistening branches were a diamond-studded spider’s web encircling Bangalore like a halo. 

She wasn’t sure what to say. The soldier had never addressed her by name before.

“I think we got some air to clear here. What about you?” Bangalore finally ventured.

Wraith gave a non-committal shrug, but she faced the woman fully now. 

A sigh. “Look, maybe I’ve been too hard on you for too long. You can say it.”

"Did you really stop me out here just to apologize?” Wraith wasn't buying it. Too sudden of a change. Though... she recalled how Bangalore had corrected herself earlier, before the trip to this hemisphere. 

“Yes. When we all found out the truth… I guess I learned how to appreciate the way you’ve handled everything. You saved Natalie’s life when the rest of us didn’t even realize it needed saving.”

“But you couldn’t be bothered to give two shits that she saved my life too.” Wraith pressed past the indignation that flashed across Bangalore’s face at her words. Maybe she was being a little harsh... but Bangalore's longstanding disrespect for her couldn't be an easy line to hurdle. It would take time to break down her own distrust for the woman as well. Wraith sighed, “We can put our past behind us, sure. I’ll go along with that. But an apology alone isn’t gonna change how things are gonna be moving forward.” 

"Guess I can understand that." Bangalore gave a relenting grumble, before lifting a finger to her ear in response to a ping from Loba. “What’s up, you find something?”

“It’s this place… It’s massive. Larger than Solace’s underground system.”

Bangalore seemed edgy to move, and Wraith knew the conversation was over. The two stragglers hurried inside, following Loba’s waypoint on their banners until the group reunited.

It was a towering bunker they had been led to. Upon the walls of a central conical bowl did catwalks spiral down into the earth. And from each of these catwalks hung row upon row of skeletal simulacra. Low-power artificial light glanced hauntingly off each pale head like they were spider sacks under a torch. 

Revenants by the hundreds. Either the destruction of Typhon had left this place untouched, or Hammond’s hand was actively here maintaining its most persistent puppet. The latter was certainly the only viable answer. Wraith slid back into position next to Natalie, under the influence of pure magnetism. 

Loba spoke quietly, careful to ensure her voice did not echo through the silent underground tower. “Source code is likely deep down there in the bowels of this godforsaken place.”

“Looks like it splinters off into a labyrinth too,” commented Bangalore, pointing out the numerous corridors that seemed to web outward from the various catwalk junctions. “What do you say we split up too?”

“And that’s a good idea why?”

“Revenant’s awake down there somewhere. If one group runs into him, at least we’ll have others to keep going for the source code while they keep him busy.”

Loba turned up her chin in consideration. “Fine. But whoever finds the source, let me know immediately. He's my responsibility, and I won't have anyone robbing me of that.”

“Wouldn’ dream a' it,” quipped Che. “I’m a’ babysit the boys then.”

“Does that include me?” Asked Path, who was currently poking his index fingers together.

“Yuh n’ doc, all to myself.”

At the mere words, DOC retreated its little head back into Natalie’s jacket. Nat’s eyes had been locked concernedly upon Wraith until she felt the movement, in response to which she only cuddled him a little closer.

“Jus’ drop ‘em, Paq. Doc’s the biggest baby.”

Nat relinquished, peeling her hoodie open to free the drone. “Off you go, doc. Merci.”

Wraith frowned at her flipped demeanor. Outside under the raging storm, Nat’s brightness had been sparked anew. But now she seemed smothered... no doubt thanks to the terror-inducing sight of an army of simulacra.

“Loba and I’ll head straight down, no detours.” Bangalore said. “Bound to be something at the bottom of this main tower. You ladies keep your eyes peeled for Rev.”

Che caught Wraith’s glance. “Ye got north side, we’ll take south?”

“Sure.”

“Keep the comms open,” ordered Bangalore as the three squads parted ways. 

It was a dizzying descent into the bunker, but even more dizzying were the whispers of direction the Others volunteered to Wraith with increasing frequency. Left here. Follow this particular corridor. Right at the fork there.

“What were you and Anita talking about?” Nat whispered, nearly startling Wraith with her suddenness.

Her response was pure reflex. “Nothing.”

“You can tell me, tu sais?”

“She, uh, just wanted to bail out her conscience, I guess.”

Natalie gave her a confused pout. “Ajay mentioned she talked to her about how she’s treated you. Was it not about that?”

“Heh... so she only apologized ‘cause Che told her to?”

“It sounded like Anita really wanted to make things right." Nat wrung her hands. "Will you give her a chance?”

Her shoulders rose almost instinctively with intent to give the same indifferent shrug she had given Williams. But Wraith stopped herself and offered a compliant nod. “I told her I would. Sorry, Nat. She’s your friend, I know, but it’s still gonna be weird for a whi-”

Wraith’s feet scraped to a stop, her hand shooting out to grasp the edge of Nat’s jacket. She didn’t meet the concerned glance that came in response; her eyes fell upon the light cast from a side corridor in the hallway before them. It was much brighter than the soft ambient glow of the bunker lamps. Something was there.

With finger pressed to her own lips, Wraith retrieved her pistol and led Natalie down the metal hall. When they reached the doorway, she flattened herself against the wall before slowly sliding her head past the frame to peek inside. Natalie couldn’t help but do the same.

Revenant was there, leaning heavily on the sill of a reflective window, staring hard at his own likeness. For all their subtlety, the two women happened to poke their heads into his peripheral. His face turned to them before they could pull back.

Hardly phased, he grunted out a calm, “Hey,” before looking back at his reflection.

Though Wraith had been ready to retreat, curiosity pulled Natalie forward. The girl stepped into the doorway for a better look.

When her grip on the hem of Nat's jacket tightened, she was met by a half dozen rebukes from the Others. 

_“Steady.”_

_“Don’t be afraid.”_

_“Look at him.”_

Nat’s Sentinel was still stowed; Wraith kept her pistol in hand as they watched the simulacrum. For a long moment, he seemed to care little about their arrival, until he straightened and once again faced them. Wraith's body froze as if caught in a vice, but Natalie only tilted her head when Revenant’s stare fell upon her.

“Wait a minute,” he droned out. “I know your face.”

A quizzical hum escaped Natalie. “I would be surprised if you didn’t.”

“Nat…” Wraith breathed with a near inaudible voice. She was unwilling to even banter with the tower of metal sauntering towards them. But there was no shadow of intent in his steps. His spine bent forward as he approached, his shoulders bunched to bring nervous hands together in front of him. If his face were to carry any capacity of emotion, Wraith began to suspect it would be filled with worry. But that couldn’t be right…

Revenant lifted a tentative finger to point at Natalie’s scar. His voice wavered with… tenderness?

“When did this happen?”

Natalie’s body shifted defensively, turning the scarred side of her face away without breaking the contact of a sideways glare. “You don’t care."

Wraith tensed even further at the girl's biting tone. Loba had warned them of the nature of resetting a simulacrum, but that warning hadn't been enough to save them from the jarring sense of familiarity that flooded Revenant's eyes. He bore no apparent ill will to them. Yet none of this felt right. Genuine concern had to have been long lost from Revenant’s code. So why did he seem ready to cry over Natalie?

“But…” Somehow his deep words softened further, like a felt mallet upon a bass drum. “But I’m family, aren’t I?”

Wraith felt a fume of anger roll through her, only for it to be stymied by Nat’s baffled glance. His words were strained with a pain that neither of them could understand. 

“Can you help me?” He asked. 

“That’s why we’re here,” replied Natalie. It wasn’t a lie. Killing him was his dying wish, whether he knew it or not.

“Then… where is here? I do not know what brought me to this place.” Revenant turned away to face his reflection once again. It grew increasingly obvious that he was not seeing a mass of gray and red staring back at himself.

Loba’s voice sputtered over their headsets. “Looks like the Sergeant and I’ve found the right path to the source. We’ll be there soon. How’s everyone else faring?”

Wraith carefully lifted a finger to her device, not wanting to bring attention to herself. She muttered out in her most quiet voice, “We found him.”

The others must have taken a cue from her suppression.

“Don’t do anything to provoke him, Blasey.”

“Set a waypoint n’ we’ll get over to ya.”

"Team Medic, on the way, friend!”

Wraith breathed, “Copy that.”

A quick tap on her banner, and a ping was broadcasted between the three squads.

Natalie, meanwhile, had stepped past the doorway to approach Revenant. The room seemed to be a narrow server hall - two windowed walls showed off a bustle of thrumming machinery with their twinkling lights, and at the dead end lay the mainframe interface. Whatever network Hammond had built here was still running strong. This bunker was all too well-maintained in contrast to the near deliberate atmosphere of abandonment. 

“We’re on Typhon,” Natalie dared to give the simulacrum sparse information. “What was the last thing you remember?”

“I…” Revenant lifted a hand to his head. “I woke up in the dark. Couldn’t find my way out of this place… but this room seemed warm enough to stay in for a while.”

“You haven't seen anyone else?” Wraith asked. They just might be safe for now, if Revenant had yet to receive any information on his target. 

Revenant's pointed stare nearly sent her backpedaling. But his inhuman eyes didn’t boil and simmer like they once had. There was no rage there; his irises were subdued like amber resin. “You… I know you too…”

He lifted a hand in front of his face. The mere sight of those silver claws punched a dull blade in Wraith's gut. She shouldn't have said anything. His fingers began to tremble. Brashly did Natalie take his hand and lower it to rest. “Don’t mind her. You must have been involved in an accident here. But we can get you home!”

Wraith’s lips puckered to give a confused “Wh-”, but she was cut off by Natalie’s anxious eyes. 

_“She’s buying time. Keep him calm.”_

Right. With each reset, the integrity of Revenant’s personality becomes increasingly unstable. Eager as he might’ve once been to have his source destroyed, it would still be easier to preserve his current sanity until Loba was ready to end him. There was no guarantee of cooperation should he lose his grip.

Revenant now had both hands pressed to the glass of his reflection. His simulated breathing had heightened. “You know my name, right sis?”

His eyes shifted to a now shocked Natalie.

“What is it? My-”

Shuffling was heard from the corridor outside, and all three heads turned to watch the arrival of Che and Pathfinder. 

“Ye girls okay in here?”

Revenant grumbled, “What’s this?”

Path pranced happily forward. “Hi, Revenant, we missed you! How are you?”

This could get messy in a hurry. With a hitched breath, Wraith gasped out a warning, “Path-”

“Revenant?” The simulacrum hummed. “You talking to me?”

“That’s you!”

He looked down at Natalie. “What kind of name is Revenant? Who are these people?”

Whether it was her rounded eyes or paling face, Wraith wanted nothing more than to snatch Nat away from his side and put a thousand miles between them. But bravely the girl continued to preoccupy his mind. “These are our friends, we’re all here to help get you home.”

Their MRVN drew even nearer to Revenant. “Did you forget? I’m Pathfinder! We were going to be brothers!”

Gold eyes dimmed and narrowed while the simulacrum wracked his virtual memory in vain. Revenant’s head began to shake back and forth, his body backing away from the group closing in on him.

Wraith hooked her hand in Path’s elbow when he made an attempt to pursue. “Give him space.”

Revenant’s expression knifed into her, but still she mustered her most sympathetic look in response.

“This can’t be easy for him.”

Hopefully a show of support would keep the inevitable slippage at bay. It seemed to work, telling from Revenant’s curious head tilt. He visited each pair of eyes around him, before falling upon his own once again.

“Why would I be your brother?”

“Because, we’re both ro-”

“Path!” Wraith’s voice burst in warning.

“What?”

Revenant’s body stiffened with a flinch, his eyes now glowing wide and remaining locked upon himself.

When Natalie stepped towards him, Wraith felt her limbs be seized by steel traps. She helplessly stared as Nat reached up and touched a hand to the simulacrum's arm.

"Look at me, s'il vous plaît."

Revenant complied.

Natalie offered him a gentle smile. "That's it, stay calm. Pathy was only kidding."

Their MRVN stepped closer, "Sorry if you are not ready to remember, friend. I was just excited to have another robot as a friend!"

The room itself sucked in a sudden gasp.

An amber gaze pierced clean through Path's headlamp with a flash of indignation. Revenant snapped to action. Instantly did his fist contract into a spear, and drove through Path's chest without hesitation.

Natalie fell back with a scream; Wraith couldn't even choke out her own cry before Che bellowed out her protests.

Slowly, the impaled Pathfinder rotated his head to face Wraith. Words still left his chassis with personality as programmed, but his digital soul was wafting from his body along with each spark and fume. Only a monotonous tone escaped him. "Don't worry, friend. There are a thousand other me's on this planet. Maybe one of them can be his brother."

Revenant's fist was now smashing through Path's neck like a cannonball, sending him clattering to the ground. His throat rattled and grated like a capsizing load of gravel. "Shut up!"

"Stop!!" Natalie cried out with a waver that effectively stilled the simulacrum. He remained where he stood with lost eyes.

Her voice resonated deep within Wraith's soul, where each quiver matched the frequency of the throbbing in her blood. Horror was spreading her expression wide. Wraith gaped at Path's buzzing screen as it mirrored the ringing in her own ears. Her feet dropped her unceremoniously to her knees at his side - a front row view of his dangling head. Each light upon his chassis was doused one by one until the LED of his screen flickered into black. 

Ragged breathing shook her hands. She had been rendered a powerless observer, watching her own fingers latch onto Path by the shoulder bars. Weakly did she nudge him, hoping against reason that the movement alone could bring him back to the waking world. Nat’s trembling form settled next to hers, while the shadow of Lifeline fell over all three of them from Path's opposite side. 

“Che…” Wraith pleaded with a failing voice. “Ajay, _please_.”

“Sorry... This ain’t the ring. Doc’s a physician, not a mechanic.” Lifeline shook her head, though she kept her body pointed defensively at Revenant while she knelt. Her Spitfire was across her knee and ready for action should he dare move. But he merely stared down upon them. "Any healin' ye've seen doc give these boys been simulated through the Games. Our little marvin here’s passed savin'."

Wraith’s fingers clenched knuckle-white. "Not him..." 

The trembling in her body heated into a broiling rage. Her memory may be short - infantile even - but Path had become an older sibling to her, always there to her earliest recollections. And now he was gone. 

Suddenly the weight of the Wingman holstered at her hip pressed into Wraith, like an animal nudging her for attention. The weapon in her holster seemed awfully inviting. Shaking with malicious fury, Wraith's hand clamped down on the pistol. A chilling pit in her stomach gaped wide to swallow her whole from the inside out. 

“Don't-” Natalie must have been watching her reaction, telling from how the girl’s grip upon her gauntlet arm tightened. 

“Out of the way.” 

“No...”

Then Revenant’s awed voice rattled over them. “How?”

Both Nat and Lifeline lifted their eyes to him, while Wraith’s remained low. She could hear the sifting metal of him rubbing his fingers together. Yet it was near impossible to tear her eyes away from Path’s lifeless frame. 

“How did I do that?”

Oh, now _that_ caught Wraith’s attention. Her spine shot upright and she was instantly on her feet. With her barely suppressed limbs quaking in place, she slowly turned a glare over her shoulder. Even through his skeletal face, Revenant’s confusion was genuine. His lapse was over; he had yet to fully realize his place in this reality. But seeing him like so did little to smother the flames within. Her hand left the Wingman in favor of her knife. 

She fumed, dark and slow, “You wanna know how?”

“Wraith, please.” Nat’s voice oscillated between sadness and anxiety. But Wraith's arm barred her aside. She was sick to death of this accursed simulacrum, and Revenant clearly saw the intent of her approach. He held his arms up in defense.

“Tell me, I don't understand! How-”

“I’ll show you how,” Wraith spat. Inhibition was dead. She lunged forward knife first, eyes blinded white. The fires within her heart were now stoked into a conflagration consuming her entire being. Howling flames deafened her ears and numbed her extremities, but instinct drove her body relentlessly towards the murderer before her. All else had fallen away; Wraith didn’t even feel the three sets of hands restraining her body. 

There was only the struggle. Her eyes were latched upon Revenant’s hypnotic irises swelling as she inched closer and closer to him. Any second now, she would be able to strike. If only she could _move_. Her arms ached to lash out; the kunai in her hand seemed to buzz with a fervent hunger. All of Blasey’s violent tendencies were here, rushing back to the surface and clawing for freedom. 

How Wraith strove to oblige them. For her dearly departed.

The hand upon her gauntlet arm was weak with a tremor. That was her opening. Wraith wrenched the arm free, drawing a seam into the void and dragging herself into its phase. Her body was finally set loose. She dove past Revenant’s form, twirling quickly about and releasing herself from the cold blue. The knife was out and poised to strike, but the simulacrum was ready with incalculable accuracy. His hand caught hers just as she rematerialized.

Despite the lack of malice in his eyes, Wraith's breath was ejected by her muscles clenching in preparation for his strike.

Round drops of gold stared back at her. Still Wraith struggled, prompting Revenant to grip her tighter with both hands and hoist her into the air. But he never struck.

“Stop,” he… pleaded? “You’re making her cry.”

Wraith’s white eyes shot to Natalie, who stood close by with her hands clasped over her mouth. There she saw the tears clearly streaming down the girl’s cheeks. At such a sight, the fight was sucked clean from her bones like marrow. Those swimming blues further wrung her mangled heart. 

Feeling the tension release from her body, Revenant dropped Wraith to the ground. Nat's terrified expression had wavered for an instant to cast a confused glance at his considerate words, but quickly she refocused.

Che slid into position beside Nat. “Ya know killin’ him ain’t gonna solve anything, yeah? I know ye better at keepin’ ya head on straight than people be givin’ ye credit for, Wrai’, but don’ go losin’ it now. Time to be smart now more’n ever.”

Her shoulders wearily slumped, but a thousand thoughts rocketed and ricocheted off the walls of Wraith's mind. Some mourned for Path. Others ached with concern for Natalie. The loudest ones inundated her with hateful words for Revenant. Though her knife might now be sheathed, Wraith was still poised to strike, verbally.

But a powerful overhead flash of blue pre-emptively silenced her. Each set of eyes turned upward in time for another flash, this one red and accompanied by an ear-splitting siren. Wraith shook with fury at the alarm's interruption. "God, what now?!"

"Sécurité..." Natalie whimpered. The charred pit in Wraith's throat plunged deep into her stomach when her eyes returned to her friend. The alarm rapidly pounded Natalie into the ground with its heavy ringing, and there she knelt with arms over her head. 

"Oh.. this ain't good." Lifeline faced the door with her Spitfire. 

"Medic, we need a medic!!" Bangalore yelled into their earpieces. "Ajay, get down here, quick!"

"Wha's the matter?!"

"Caustic's here in the bunker and set off the alarm. His damn traps are everywhere. I think Loba caught some fumes, she can hardly breathe! We need your help, pronto!"

"On my way!" Che cast a pained glance over her shoulder. "No time to wait, all y'all comin'?"

Grief had stolen Wraith's voice under the guise of enraged panic. She only longed to whisk Natalie up and out of the bunker, not drag her deeper into its gullet. And it was growing increasingly clear that whichever road they chose, they would have to leave Pathfinder behind, for good. Wraith hesitated for what felt like an eternity, but it was Nat rising to her feet who responded in weary haste. 

"Go, Ajay. And be careful, there will soon be Stalkers out there. I'm staying here to try and shut down the security grid."

"Okay, ya better watch yeselves now,” Che nodded with a stern look at Wraith before turning to the door. “Hey 'Nita! Do what ya can to keep her oxygen goin'!" 

The medic's advice to Bangalore faded under the sirens around them as she bolted from the room with DOC in tow. 

Wraith meanwhile watched Natalie in awe. The young woman was already fast at work. Her orange hood was pulled over her head and bunched in place in a futile effort to block out the alarm. Despite the noise steadily breaking her down, she still knew what needed to be done. With shaky but determined strides the girl approached the system mainframe at the far end of the server room.

And where was Wraith? Frozen in time, fused to Path’s body with glass welding.

She'd drifted back to his side without even realizing. Wraith knew she needed to shatter this anchor; she needed to move and help Nat in any way possible. Yet there was a painful throb in her heart telling her that this would be the last time she would ever step away from Pathfinder's side. Wraith could only imagine what more she could have done for him.

But there were yet more lives on the line, here in the present. Revenant was following Natalie closely while her fingers clattered across the keyboard to wake the system interface. 

Darkness once again overtook Wraith’s face. She pulled herself away from Path’s body with an air of finality. She would not fail Natalie the way she had failed him. Her companions may have said not to kill Revenant - and smartly so, she understood - but the situation had grown all too desperate.

Not to mention, she had already made a certain promise to Revenant himself once, long ago. A promise edged with a threat. No further provocation was needed for her to make good on this promise. She wanted him gone. Still... Wraith forced herself to wait, out of respect for Loba. His death was the woman's responsibility.

Yet she knew, if Loba's failure was truly upon the threshold... there would be no power in the known universe that could stop Wraith from burying this cursed simulacrum alive within the empty eternity of the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> broe i swear i've had these chpts outlined for weeks before they're written and still the current canon comics go and do shit like That. small coincidences but it's pretty amusing at this point
> 
> we've officially reached the beginning of the end :/


	11. Soulless Solace

**Soulless Solace**  


An army of Stalkers had come to life. 

Steel and concrete shook to the foundations in a trepid announcement of their advent.

Wraith was perched between Nat and Revenant with muscles tauter than a tightrope. As much as she wanted to let herself snap, she knew the simulacrum was wrung by the same tension. Cut his strings too soon, and the backlash of his unravelling psyche would shred her and Natalie to ribbons. 

_“Let him be,”_ a warning from an Other. _“He’s still hanging on.”_

Frustration churned up a growl in her throat as she glared him down. But Revenant’s eyes remained upon Nat and her frantic work, of which Wraith held just as much concern. The sirens were still ringing strong.

"This is taking too long," murmured Natalie.

Wraith hardly cared about the Stalkers; she was confident the case of revolver mags in her stash would be enough. What truly set her on edge lay in the quaking of Natalie's body and the brimming of tears in her eyes. 

"Focus on cutting the alarm, if you can. We'll handle the Stalkers ourselves if it comes to it." Though Wraith kept her voice as calm as possible, the biting rage underneath persisted. Revenant was within arm's reach. It would be so easy to slide her knife into his spinal canal-

A whine from Nat interrupted her fantasy. "I can't..."

"It's okay, one step at a time."

"Non, I won't be able to deactivate security at this rate. If only I could overhaul the entire network from this access point."

Revenant stepped closer, causing Wraith’s tense body to bristle. He paid her no mind. "What would you need do pull it off?"

Nat flinched at his uncharacteristically soft voice, and bowed her head low. "Je ne sais pas. If... maybe if I could get to the inner workings, I could use my pylon to overload the system."

"Say no more." Revenant slid between Natalie and the mainframe. "'Scuse me."

Wraith seized Nat by the shoulders to pull her away, out of instinct rather than reason - her friend had already stepped back voluntarily as the simulacrum squared up with the interface. The added touch of Wraith's hands was unneeded, made known by Natalie roughly brushing her off. 

“Désolée…” Nat whispered when Wraith dropped her arms. Momentarily was she stunned, until yes, she understood. Too many noises, too many sensations. 

Revenant meanwhile had gripped the sides of the mainframe at the seam where it was secured to the wall. Steel fingers pierced easily through metal, and with a terrifying show of strength he sheared the system faceplate from its housing. The guts of the mainframe came spilling out with bundles of live wires. 

Waving the now useless interface, Revenant faced them, "How's this?"

"Merci," Natalie spoke out in a voice weakened by stress. She plunged her hands into the mess of wires, rapidly sorting and sourcing each cord within the system. Some she even stripped and spliced together. The odd spark or two jumped out from within. It almost seemed as if the lights of the server machinery around them shimmered brighter under Natalie's influence. 

"Ajay!" Bangalore's digitized voice. "You better be close! Any sign of Caustic?"

"Hadda disarm a couple traps, but I ain't seen him yet. Almost there!"

Wraith's eyes followed Nat's hands closely in the meantime. She knew the girl was well versed in circuitry. But the trembling of her touch was all too obvious; the clenching of her eyes in protest to the blaring sirens around them gave Wraith a poignant warning. She wanted to rest her hands upon her friend's shoulders again, though she knew it would only make things worse. She wanted to take her away from the noise, despite knowing there was no escape.

Yet, for all her wishes and wants, Wraith would soon be longing for a second try at this moment. A second chance to at least do _something_ , to say something. But in this reality she only watched.

Natalie seated the last cord and left one solitary bundle of cables exposed from within the bowels of the mainframe. Those final wires were her target, having been interlaced into a conjoined hub of power supplies. A quick rub turned her gloved hands into a medium between her pylon and the system. Natalie hastily pressed the charge into the wires. Too hastily. 

Wraith never saw where Nat's hands had touched, for when they disappeared within the bundle, there came a blinding arc of light. The bolt spiraled up Nat's arms and ate its way ravenously into the pylon. 

The coil may have been graded for high voltage, but even that wasn't enough to successfully ground the power grid of a Hammond bunker. 

Natalie's pylon combusted into an electric blue blast. With propulsive strength rivalling that of a frag it rocketed Nat headfirst into the corner of the open mainframe. Solid was the surface; a mere dull thud resounded from the impact. A gentle wave wobbled her legs at the knees, after which Nat's body crumpled backwards to the ground. 

Darkness and silence inundated the room in the explosion’s wake. The vibrations of the structure around them had ceased, and gradually did auxiliary lighting flicker down upon them in with dim gray waves. 

It took an extra unnoticed second for Wraith to realize she was lying on her own back. The shockwave from the pylon had thrown both her and Revenant from Natalie’s side. She pushed herself painfully onto her elbows, while her eyes attempted to place her friend within the room that had somehow transformed itself into a merry-go-round. 

The girl lay in a squirming heap beneath the frayed hole of the interface.

"Nat!" Wraith cried out to her, all but crawling across the swirling cold floor. Her limbs brushed aside the scattered entrails of the pylon that littered her path. But with bated breath, Wraith reached her side. "Natalie?"

There only came a mumbling whine.

"N-" A grunt nearby caused Wraith's hair to stand on end. Revenant growled from where he'd been tossed. Any concern in his voice had been overwrought with betrayed confusion, as if this were his first time hearing her name. "Natalie...?!"

"Ça va…"

Revenant sat up in one smooth, mechanical motion. Wraith didn't like the simmering in his eyes one bit. Her hand drifted to Nat's tattered jacket and ever so carefully eased her onto her back.

"Hey-"

"I'm okay," Nat quickly stated, though her rapid blinking paired with a stream of blood from her hairline did little to console Wraith. But Nat's fingers latched on to her with convincing enough strength. "Pardon, I can stand."

"Not too fast though… You hit your head."

"I must've- ngh... Must not've distributed the power correctly... I don't know, I- I couldn't _think_." With frustration etching her voice, Natalie seemed to have no intention of taking it slow. She pulled herself into a sitting position using Wraith as leverage. "Where is everyone? Is Loba alright?"

Wraith couldn't even formulate an answer while watching Nat's body hitch and flinch. From her own experience she knew the nausea such a blow to the head could wreak. 

Stalking steps from behind set her on alert, but when Wraith twisted about, Revenant had remained still as a statue.

The footsteps continued despite his lack of movement. Like steel blades scraping against each other they slithered, slow and staggering. A red glow began to creep along the metalwork in the hallway outside their haven.

“They’re coming.” Natalie saw the red as well, unsteadily climbing to her feet. “I think… I shut everything down before they could arm themselves.”

“Then what’re you doing?” Try as she might to hold back the girl’s stuttering body, Natalie continued to press towards the door.

“I have to-” Her legs buckled, forcing her weight heavier upon Wraith.

A grumbling hum rolled over them from Revenant. “Nat.”

Hearing the name on his metal lips sent a numbing chill through Wraith’s fingers. She stared him coldly down, but there he remained, quietly studying and pondering.

Nat hadn't even graced him with a response. Her focus was locked upon the doorway.

Tearing icy eyes away from the simulacrum, Wraith nearly called out to her again when Natalie spoke.

“They will overwhelm us. Through numbers alone. With this we'll at least have a chance.”

The weakness in her voice was eating Wraith alive. And yet she had reached the door, and precisely laid down her last two nodes to fence the way. When Nat turned to face her again, her silhouette was graced by a silvery halo of blue light dancing about from the newly activated connection. 

Wraith's chest was swirling with a thousand screams begging to be released:

The yearning to throw her arms around Natalie and nurse away the pain from her wounds. The craving to hack Revenant's existence away into a pile of rubble. The wish to collapse upon Path’s silent chest, and sob out every regret and apology that was raging from within.

For the moment, however, she was helpless under Natalie’s tired stare. From three different directions was Wraith’s body hooked, under the pressure of such she felt as if she could be torn asunder at any second. 

Redness was billowing brighter in the hallway beyond Nat’s fences; the grinding of Revenant’s metal joints brushed across her ears from behind. 

They were pinned between two fronts with time working against them. 

“Can you fight?” Wraith whispered out to Natalie. 

With a nod, the girl snatched up her Sentinel from the floor where it had been displaced by the earlier explosion. Wraith, meanwhile, spun herself about, whipping her Wingman from its holster to train upon the approaching Revenant.

“Not another step,” she hissed.

He grumbled with clenching fists, but Wraith kept her sights between his eyes.

Bangalore’s voice hollered through their headsets. “Stalkers incoming. We’ve got the firepower to hold them off, but what about you ladies?”

“We can take them,” muttered Wraith. The Stalkers themselves she did not fear, but their presence and numbers alone were a barricade hemming them in with this increasingly destabilizing simulacrum.

Nat called to them next, “Is Loba alright?!”

“She’s stable… Ajay made it in time.”

Wraith’s attention was still on Revenant, monitoring his barely concealed reactions to the exchange. “And Caustic?”

Che replied, “I didn’ see him, so keep ya eyes peeled.”

“Great.” Sarcasm bled from the word. They couldn’t afford to fight on three separate fronts. She saw in Revenant's eyes how his wires were fraying thinner and thinner. Dare she attempt to talk him through it?

Natalie whispered over the comms. “Please hurry… the source.”

“Solid copy,” Loba responded with a weary tone.

Wraith would have felt relief at Loba returning to the trail, had Revenant not been seething in her face. “What did you say her name was?”

“What?”

“N-” The consonant stuttered into a growl. “Nat…”

Wraith’s knuckles bleached white upon her weapon, recalling how Revenant had looked upon them with such familiarity when they had first stumbled in on him. Perhaps he had seen someone else in Natalie's face. But who? A person from his past...?

The girl in question interrupted her line of thought. "Don't think too much."

Wraith watched Revenant's eyes lift beyond her towards Nat. She straightened her arms, closing the Wingman on him as a warning. Over her shoulder she heard a familiar revving of electricity - Natalie charging her Sentinel. 

"Look at your reflection," Nat continued. Her voice had evened out. "Don't strain yourself. Tell us what you see."

Ever so painfully slowly did Revenant's head swivel to let his eyes rest upon himself. Wraith watched the golden fire in his gaze sputter and pant.

"I'm... I don't even know who I am."

"Just describe who's looking back at you. Maybe it will come back if you do."

"I see a smart dresser. Very sleek."

Somehow, even the small eye contact Revenant made with himself seemed to quell the brewing storm within. Wraith nudged him, "Go on."

"Pale skin. Blue eyes. Blond hair." The more points of interest he pointed out, the more there seemed to be. "High cheekbones. Broad shoulders... My... But my arms. They _feel_ longer than they really are."

He flexed those arms, fanning out shoulderblades from the socket of the humerus. Fingers stretched and twiddled with the same rhyme as the striking bars of an ancient earth typewriter. 

Wraith pieced together the fragments that Revenant fed to them. From which, only one image seemed to root in her mind. A terrible thought: a still-life photo of a young Nat and her father, preserved in a small frame that Wraith had seen often when visiting the girl's home. Both father and daughter shared many of these descriptors which Revenant was listing. But that couldn't be possible...

A sudden disruptor shot from Natalie's rifle rattled Wraith down to the bone. 

The Stalkers had arrived. Without rhythm or reason they piled through the fenced doorway, chaining together arcs of electricity that were effectively amplified by the Sentinel's charged bullet. A pile of inert machinery steadily gathered at the foot of Nat's fences: an effective roadblock for those certainly to follow. 

And follow they did. Another shot was loosed, and then a third.

Wraith had almost turned to support Natalie, when next she felt a soft pressure against her from behind. 

"Be vigilant," whispered Nat. "It won't be long now. I've got your back."

A pause. Another sniper report. A chuckle.

"Your back. I think I get that one now." Natalie's voice was quiet yet levitated - a suffocating brook being fed with a trickle of life from a leaking dam. 

Wraith wanted to smile over her shoulder at the girl. Maybe give her a comment in return. But her attention could not be split from Revenant teetering on his own mental precipice right before her eyes. The two women were back to back, steeling themselves for a final stand of what they hoped was the final battle. 

They just had to hang on until Loba deactivated the source code. 

The Stalkers seemed to be thinning in numbers. But whether that was to be attributed to Natalie's infrequent shots, or some other outside force, time had yet to tell.

Time... of which itself was wearing down upon Revenant. He shook in his stance; hands clawed at the air. Desperation was overtaking his gait. His gaze had homed in upon Natalie, and Wraith was leagues beyond fed up with that. 

A sudden spark and startling sputter from Natalie's Sentinel was all it took for Wraith to lapse in her focus for a fatal instant. 

"You alright?" Her head swiveled to check over her shoulder as the girl dropped the arcing weapon with a yelp. An electric backfire, no doubt a byproduct of the earlier blast from the pylon.

Her eyes were not on Revenant, and Wraith realized that only when it was too late. Spidery fingers wound around her wrists and wrenched her away from Natalie's touch. Guttural simmering bubbled through Revenant's gullet as he closed in lightning fast upon the girl. His hands were at her arms and her feet were off the ground in an instant. 

"REV!" Wraith dashed back between them, but the simulacrum was already latched upon his prey. She reached up with a panicked threat, planting the Wingman under his chin. Yes, pulling the trigger would only reset this entire process, but that was not a risk worthy of Natalie's life. She gave him one last chance. "Let her go, you monster."

He only stared at Natalie, as if her eyes alone held the answer to his torturous question.

"Tell me," he mused. "Nat..."

The girl only gaped back at him, her breath utterly stolen away. With regret did Revenant's head begin to shake back and forth.

"You... you're not _her_."

A new voice, a gravelly voice. From the doorway. "Of course she isn't."

Wraith's breath stuck in her lungs when she spun herself to look. Denial did her no good; he was there, indubitably. Caustic stood amidst a dead trove of Stalkers, armed with nothing but a glowing hammer. He held captive the full attention of the room.

With Wingman still pressed to Revenant, Wraith continued to hold her breath. The old man wouldn't dare provoke the simulacrum. Not with Natalie in his grip. But his arrival could only further irritate Revenant's condition.

"Who're you?" Revenant challenged. "What business of yours is this?"

"All will explain itself to you soon enough. Put her down, _simulacrum_."

Horror screamed across Wraith's expression at the use of that word, gaping her eyes and mouth open wide. Had Nox lost his mind?!

Revenant stiffened into a rigid tower, quaking in place with brewing realization. The tension translated directly into his hands where they bit into Natalie's arms tighter and tighter. She gave a futile struggle in turn.

His eyes were ablaze - pain, remembrance, desperation, betrayal. A tsunami for the emotions of lifetimes unfathomable came rushing through his metal countenance. There was not a breath in his absent lungs, only a steaming hiss. His throat was the chalkboard slate; his voice was the raking nail. And when the dam burst, an ear-splitting scream dragged itself out of his body with enough force to nearly incapacitate all those around him.

Wraith doubled over, hands slapped over her ears. She vaguely discerned a grunt of discomfort from Caustic outside; but it was Natalie, screaming alongside Revenant, who demanded her attention. 

In response to her cries, the simulacrum tossed her with little care. Across the ground she bounced and rolled until she came to rest beneath the gutted mainframe at the dead end of the room.

Onwards Revenant continued to roar and gnash while his unfeeling fingers pried the air and concrete around him for reprieve. With that one word, Caustic had successfully re-ensnared him into the miserable, despairing existence of a synthetic immortal. 

Seeing Nat struggle to right herself, Wraith dashed to her aid. She searched the girl’s body frantically, top to bottom, for any sign of injury, while the only response Natalie could muster was a dry heave arching up her throat. 

“Breathe,” Wraith urged her with a hand on her shoulder, ever so aware as to not be forceful with the touch. “Just breathe, N-”

“I hate this…” Strained words were choked out from beneath the hood that Nat had wrapped tightly around her own head. “I hate this!!”

Wraith jabbed a finger to her earpiece to sound out to the others, “We’re out of time here! Loba?!”

“Just a few moments longer… Whatever you do, don’t kill him! When the system went down, it fortunately interrupted the emergency transfer process, but we still had to reconnect to auxiliary power to access the source code. If he dies, it’ll lock us out again.”

Revenant’s screams were dwindling away. They did not have “a few moments” to spare. With anxious hands she tugged for Natalie to stand. At her urgency, the girl took one peek out of the cover of her hood.

And sprung to action, shooting upwards and diving directly into Wraith.

 _“Turn around!”_ Meddling voices screeched out right as Nat made contact. _“Don’t let her-!”_

Too late. The force of the impact sent Wraith staggering aside, leaving her to watch a web of silencer chains collide with Natalie. Their velocity was enough to nearly send the girl off her feet, smashing her into the back wall and fastening her to the concrete surface. 

Wraith cried out, ready to snatch away those chains herself if Natalie’s voice hadn’t held her at bay.

“Don’t!” With her body flattened against the wall and fully restrained, Nat could only gesture with teary eyes. “Him- Focus!”

_“He’ll get you next!”_

_“Behind!!”_

Her pistol was instantly retrained upon Revenant with a swift swivel. Just in time too. The fires of agony in his eyes had calmed enough for him to pierce Wraith with a mad stare. His left hand was held forward, fingers twisted about with inhuman dexterity to retrieve another silencer from its socket. 

Wraith’s reaction time was still immaculate. As his fingers twitched with the release, she dove into a roll to evade the tightly packed ball of otherworldly chains. They streaked past her, splattering against the same wall Natalie was pinned up against. A whimper escaped the girl when the scalding strength of the chains doubled about her body. She fought bravely against their grip. Though the silencer was a searing vice in its hold, it was still of vestigial construction. It would not hold the girl there forever.

That mattered little here and now, where each second was worth an eternity. Wraith could only afford one regretful grimace at Natalie’s state, before Revenant seized her focus. With a screeching growl he was already in mid-lunge towards her. Claws sprawled outwards from disjointed knuckles. 

Wraith dove directly at him in turn, slipping into a phase just before he swung. She let his body fall through her essence, and immediately rematerialized while momentum still carried Revenant forward. His fingers sheared into the clear plating of the server windows, costing him a moment for disentanglement. The drop was Wraith's, this time.

Spinning about, she threw all her weight into a knife-strike, gouging the blade into the ball of his hip. It tore through the rubber cushioning of the joint until sparks shot from grinding metal. Bit by bit she planned to hack him into submission.

But Revenant retaliated in a rage. His arms swung backward to snatch at her, going so far as to reverse themselves within their sockets to save him the trouble of turning around. Wraith tumbled away, letting the safety of the void once again envelop her. 

Many of her Others were in a frenzy by now, with a multitude of conflicting pointers bouncing about between her ears. Dodge here- no there! Free Natalie. Shoot Caustic. Run… Run, run!

Freeing Natalie had been foremost in Wraith’s mind, but Revenant’s chains were contagious. They would spread at the slightest touch. And targeting Caustic was certainly tempting, with how he calmly stood at the doorway to observe the altercation. Yet she didn’t have the luxury of splitting her attention like so. Her focus belonged with Revenant.

Wraith held herself in the void a moment longer to gauge his movements. He was waiting for her, arm once again extended. Obviously his intent was to ensnare her the instant she should reveal herself. They both knew she couldn’t hold her breath in the phase forever; and the strain upon her lungs would only put her at a disadvantage going forward. Wraith feigned one way, letting the crackle of her essence drift in that direction before flinging her materializing body the opposite. A hum of satisfaction left her when the misfired silencer flew harmlessly past. But she was only pissing Revenant off more and more. 

Again he roared, this time in frustration, scurrying on all fours now to close the gap.

“I WILL NOT FAIL AGAIN.” His voice boomed, and yet rattled with failing integrity. Madness was overtaking what was left of his soul. 

Her Wingman was out; Wraith could so easily put a bullet through his skull. Once more, reason reminded her that such an action would only make things worse. The thought alone killed her! Wraith’s hand ached with a palpable urge to shoot at least _something_.

Revenant led his attack with that same silencing hand. The room was steadily being decorated with sparkling orange chains - any of which could snag her up should she so much as brush a finger against them. 

His wrist. That was the key. As Revenant lunged for her, Wraith strafed his hand and planted a point-blank shot into the silencer socket. Wraith almost grinned at the clean hit, watching his hand crumple and fumble in agony. 

Yet pain was wasted on him. His hand may have reacted, but his limbs were intact and, even worse, in control. Not a split second passed before Revenant vengefully bore down upon her. 

Wraith flung her gauntlet arm upwards in defense, though her repeated retreats into the void were dragging her down and draining her equipment. The gauntlet lagged in its activation for one nerve-wracking instant.

His spindly hand latched about Wraith's arm. Wingman was immediately in position to shoot away his offending grip, but Revenant had his damaged arm to spare. Thus were both pairs of hands locked into a wrestling match. Revenant lifted her into the air via her pistol hand, high above her head. With the other he wracked frustrated steel fingertips across her gauntlet.

Wraith only needed the right leverage. Her weight was clearly in his control, but she could use that to her advantage. Letting her body hang from her restrained right hand, she kicked up her powerful legs and drove them square into Revenant's chest.

He didn't budge, though his eyes dimmed into a sneer. She didn't like that at all. Wraith reared back one leg, ready to strike him in the face next, when Revenant's grip upon her released. 

It was more of a toss than a drop - like a batter lofting a baseball to themself. She hadn't realized how high he had raised her off the ground, but she hovered in the air long enough for Revenant to strike back with lightning speed. He kicked his foot much like she had intended herself, planting the metal appendage into her lower gut. Wraith could have sworn she felt her innards slosh up into her esophagus from the impact.

Violently was she thrown backwards into the wall, sliding lazily down to the floor as she coughed and sputtered through new waves of nausea churning about within. No distractions! Still hacking out each breath, Wraith dove for her dropped weapon, no sooner seizing it than did Revenant's foot stomp down on her wrist. 

There she was pinned by her firing arm. The gauntlet was free to use, and though her lungs were thoroughly spent, Wraith knew that was her only chance. 

But when she reached up to draw a phasing seam, the simulacrum above her intervened with bloodthirsty fingers. He stooped low to dig into her gauntlet arm, prying about the edges before impatience got the better of him. A frustrated growl was her only warning, and then with a mighty yank Revenant tore the phase tech away.

Excruciation. Her gear was not meant to be removed so hastily. The force of Revenant's pull successfully snapped the gauntlet's latch loose, but that did not stop its blunt teeth from shearing mercilessly across her forearm through the action. 

Fire gnashed through the limb as the gauntlet left several rivers of torn skin scrawling down her wrist.

Wraith's mouth was open wide, and for an extended instant, there was nothing but blinding white in her peripheral accenting a high pitched ring in her ears. Perhaps there was a trickle of Natalie's voice in the background. She didn't know.

Adrenaline would not mask this pain for more than a few seconds. As the blood began to flow, so did the anguish for each open wound flood her mind. 

She couldn't even scream away the pain. Each breath was a strain, only to be expelled in whimpering gasps.

A reveling chuckle resounded from Revenant above as he tossed the dead gauntlet aside. 

The Others were nonstop, worse than ever before. Between endless regrets and reprimands, there seemed to be a universal relinquishing of the fight. Wraith fought desperately against their despair - with her body, if not her mind. But the tug she mustered with her pinned arm was pitiful. Her opposite hand was just as useless, nothing more than a quaking claw thanks to trauma-induced paralysis. Revenant shook his head down upon her white-irised, open-mouthed stare. 

“Oh, Renee…” He leaned low over her with an insidious gentleness in his voice that betrayed the way the pad of his foot twisted into her wrist. Somehow he seemed capable of staring directly through her eyes to peruse among the conglomerate of souls populating her headspace. “Too loud, huh?”

Everyone knew she heard voices, and everyone knew their volume was reflected through her eyes. Yet his acknowledgement of the Others still sent a chill through her struggling body. 

An idea seemed to filter through his mind. Revenant reached for her pistol hand, sliding his fingers about her wrist with thumb tucked tightly into her palm to ensure she could not tilt the barrel of the Wingman towards him. His other hand wove into her harness, and effortlessly did he pull her off the ground. 

A strained cry drifted towards them from Natalie. “Stop this…” 

The girl’s breath was erratic, likely due to her unending battle against the grip of the chains. Only minimal progress had been made - her head alone had found freedom of movement. The rest of her body was still pinned against the wall. Any anguish that wracked Wraith's body was nothing compared to the torturous guilt of not being able to keep Natalie away from such danger. Her eyes sporadically flipped between Nat and the simulacrum.

Revenant didn’t even pay the blond a glance. He merely chuckled at Wraith’s state. “Look at you. Craving blood and starving for silence. And yet you think you’re so much better off than I am, don’t you?”

She could hardly hear him over the hurricane in her mind, but that alone proved his point. Revenant moved her back, still holding her off the ground, until he had pressed her up against a webbing of chains upon the windowed server wall. As if drawn to her living tissue, the chains came alive. With newfound autonomy they slithered across the metalwork towards that contact. Their touch was too hot for comfort, but she was powerless to fight as they pooled about her shoulders and wound around her neck - only tight enough to restrain any movement. 

The pained twinge in Wraith’s face was smoothed away when her eyes cleared. Revenant tilted his head with what she could have sworn was a smile.

“There. See? _Silence_.” 

He was right. In the grip of the chains came stillness and freedom from the Others. This newfound clarity allowed her much needed room within her head to think for herself. She swallowed against the dryness that coated her throat in the wake of her injury.

“Listen, Rev-”

“I meant what I said that one time. You would make the perfect simulacrum, and I do believe you would enjoy it for lifetimes more than I ever could.”

“-Stand down!” Wraith barked at his interruption, stifling away her horror at Revenant’s words. “Loba’s here. She’s gonna take care of you.”

Caustic reminded them of his presence - a sharp warning in his voice. “Quit playing with your victim, simulacrum. You know as well as anyone that Ms. Andrade has no intention of ending your suffering. You can end it yourself, here and now.”

“Shut up, old man.” Revenant seethed, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Don’t force my hand.”

“Or... what?!”

“With the right dosage, unconsciousness can be induced before any true brain damage can occur. Thus, if necessity calls for it, I will gas this entire room and retrieve Ms. Paquette’s body myself while the rest of you rot. She can be resuscitated with the right facilities. You, on the other hand, will be cursed to another lifetime within that abomination of a carcass.”

Caustic paused with a thoughtful hum, already retrieving a noxious canister.

“In fact… if only Ms. Paquette’s central nervous system were to survive, she could be immortalized just like you, Revenant. A much more efficient choice for a simulacrum, as opposed to the disgraced scientist you are doting over. Yes, just imagine how much the scientific community could traverse with an undying asset of her caliber...”

Out of the corner of her eye Wraith saw Natalie’s struggle cease, and her features be seized up by sheer terror.

“Rev…” Wraith breathed out. The simulacrum glanced at her in return, and for a godsent moment their minds synced. 

Revenant jerked her firing arm between them with an authoritative grip, taking care to aim the barrel of the Wingman towards the doorway. Placing her full trust in his discernment, Wraith pulled the trigger as soon as he lined up her shot. Their movement took less than an instant. Caustic had no time to react.

A white-hot bullet exploded through the room with it’s telltale fiery sheen before barreling through his skull. A perfect shot. So perfect that his head only barely kicked back from the impact. Like a statue Caustic stood for a terrifying second, until his legs began to waver under the weight. When he finally collapsed, the pile of frayed Stalkers behind welcomed him greedily to their dead ranks.

Quiet solace rested upon the room as the three that remained stared at the old man’s body, all waiting for any trace of life. But he was gone.

“Heh…” A gravelly chuckle rumbled from Revenant, followed by another. And then, throwing his head back, the simulacrum was overtaken by howling laughter. “Concise as ever, Renee! I knew you had it in you.”

How she hated hearing that name upon his voice. “My name is Wraith.”

Revenant’s hand flew over his mouth in feigned apology, letting her feet return to the floor. “Oh, of course of course. Heheh. You’re only the replacement. The real Renee wants you dead.”

With her confusion as distraction, the fingers that remained over the barrel of the Wingman wrenched it from her weary grasp. Any struggle she gave was met by his free hand clamping down upon her torn arm. A hissing grimace wrung her face, yet the question still burned beneath her countenance. “How…-”

He snickered, tossing the Wingman away. “She and I had a little conversation, and that’s more than you need to know.”

He closed in on her with a twiddle of the fingers that Wraith immediately recognized. Panic took hold of her reins. “Wait- Rev, don’t. Just wait…”

She planted her palm to his chest to keep him at bay, but Revenant had no intention of letting her fight back. Violently he wrung her wounded arm like a dishrag, twisting it taut enough to threaten snapping it at the elbow. Wraith yelped as he used the tension to shove her to the ground. His fingers dug between tattered strips of fabric to where the skin of her wrist was laid open. 

Through gritting teeth she hissed out, “We’re so close… If you’d-”

“You will humor me, won’t you?” Revenant interrupted. With his free hand he pressed the tip of the index finger to the epicenter of her abdominal scar. “Just one slice.”

Pain preceded any puncture, and with the memory of such pain came an old image. A path of red imprinted on a white canvas.

Wraith lashed out with her legs kicking against his. Not here, not this time. 

The simulacrum was so caught up in the rapture of the would-be kill, he missed the cushioned pattering of sprinting steps.

It was desperation, a frantic effort from a dying hope. With a cry wrought under stress did Natalie finally barge onto the scene. Wrestling herself free of the chains had already left her over-exerted, but still the girl flung the full force of her lightweight body onto Revenant's arms.

Her efforts were rewarded by the simulacrum releasing Wraith, but within a half-second did the punishment follow.

Natalie hadn't the chance to arm herself before intervening, and so only had her body and words as defense. Wraith's eyes scrambled about the room in search for any trace of aid, but both Wingman and gauntlet were far out of reach (not that she'd even have the strength to use the phase tech).

It was too late, regardless. Revenant had already placed his hand at the base of Natalie's neck. But she bravely held her ground as a final buffer between him and Wraith. Just more salt to a wounded conscience.

"You don't have to hurt anyone else to get what you want," Natalie stated, near breathless. "I was not lying, we're here to help you find rest."

Her knife. Wraith still had her knife. But Revenant knew that as well as she did. He would not give her an opening. She quivered with desperation where she lay. Everything in her heart and soul was shredded to pieces at her failure to prevent Nat from falling into a situation such as this once more. Yet another nightmarish instance of the girl throwing herself in harm’s way for Wraith’s sake.

Grumbling simmered within Revenant's throat. Fingers extended to wrap around Natalie's neck. But she would not back down.

"Loba really is here."

The deathly glint in his eye lost its edge for a split second. Wraith took courage from even that trace reaction, and painstakingly pushed herself upright. "It's true."

Revenant's stare shifted between the two women.

"She's at your source right now," Wraith continued. "It's time, Rev. You don't have to kill anyone."

He only laughed. 

Then Natalie was off the ground with a startled choke. Revenant held her close, letting the entirety of her weight fall upon her throat. Panicky hands seized his wrist - Natalie doing what she could to hold her own weight and alleviate the pressure.

"You say that like I regret the killing. As if you've already forgotten my favorite pastime."

Bellowing out her protest, Wraith started towards him with kunai drawn-

Revenant stopped her. "Another step and I'll crush her windpipe right now."

Seeing her so effectively frozen in place, he barked out his glee.

"Ha! Look at how powerless she's made you. Got those tiny little voices still saying there's hope? You know they're lying, Renee."

She ground her jaw with an abysmal glare. "Let her go."

"No. Didn't I warn you? Paquettes can't be trusted."

The simulacrum glanced at Natalie, forcing her to sputter for air with a tightening grip.

"They betrayed me, left me to suffer for centuries since. Paquette is a cursed name, doomed to be haunted by the ghosts of its past. My own family… -You never knew that, did you? They never told you how your old man really died, huh, _Natalie_?"

Sputters turned into sobs, causing Wraith's jaw to drop in horror. 

"Doesn't matter." Revenant droned on. "I _will_ die as the last Paquette. Whether Loba is actually here today or not."

He straightened the arm that held the girl, now far above his head. His spine arched back to balance the weight. Their time was up. All threats were moot.

Wraith sprung towards him with a yell, clearly foreseeing his intent. The chains began to crack and crumble away from her body as she screamed out, "STOP!!"

Like a gust upon a candle, the word seemed to extinguish the fire of his eyes. 

Nothing remained. Black sockets sat empty upon a quieted face. His body stiffened, and held itself in place as nothing more than a statue. Any trace of life was gone from his frame.

Wraith was stunned into stillness at his sudden departure, until there came the kicking of Natalie's legs and weak whimpers of her collapsing throat. She had yet to be released from his grip.

Like hell would Revenant steal Nat away from beyond the grave. 

Leaping to meet his height, Wraith managed to latch her fingers around the wrist at Natalie’s throat. Yet there was little she could do from this angle. His grip was a sprung steel trap; his stance remained immovable despite Wraith’s added weight upon the arm. 

With a particularly ragged inhalation from Natalie, the voices in her head were released from silence in a new wave of panic. And it didn’t help that Wraith’s earpiece also startled her with an irritating buzz. 

“It’s done!” Said Bangalore. “Status report.”

No time to respond. Wraith had planted her feet to Revenant’s torso as added leverage, and hanging beneath the arm, she pulled with all her might in attempt to lower Natalie to the ground. No good.

“Ya girls okay back there??” Ajay called to them next. 

Wraith’s bleached eyes darted about the room. Frustration was a blender, and its thrumming pulse spun her insides into a smoothie. The Wingman. That was her best bet.

“Respond!” Bangalore demanded.

Loba next, “Wraith! Wattson?!”

“Tell us y’all a’right!!”

Dropping from Revenant’s arm, Wraith tore the earpiece from its seating and threw it aside. Too many voices. She growled out to the rumbling world around her. A wordless, futile beg to nobody for reprieve.

Natalie came first; her focus belonged nowhere else.

Wraith dove for the Wingman, checking the cylinder as she spun back towards Revenant’s unbending body. With sights upon his elbow she fired. Bullet after bullet sheared through metal and synthetic cartilage. It took more than one mag, but at last his arm began to weaken. 

From the first bullet after a second reload did the elbow finally give way, the joint breaking loose and forearm dangling by a hinge of rubber. Natalie still hung, barely the tips of her sneakers scraping along the ground as she continued to claw at the offending hand. Its grip was strong as ever. 

Wraith was at her side in an instant, carving her knife through that last inhuman sinew to finally return Natalie to earth. Yet upon an unceremonious landing did her legs cave and drop her to the floor.

“God, hang on-” Wraith followed her down, prying at Revenant’s hand with shaking fingers. Desperately she attempted to ignore how Natalie’s wrenched face was dyed red with tears and constriction. “I’ve got you, Nat, please just hang on…”

Those metal appendages of his were obstinate, but with a steady pressure Wraith was able to pull them back, inch by inch, until finally the hand snapped away from Natalie’s neck. 

Free at last, the girl’s back arched off the ground as she earnestly sucked in a lungful of air - albeit too deep and too fast. She crumbled in on herself immediately after, when that breath hitched. The force of a gasping, rattling, coughing fit curled Natalie up into a ball on the floor.

A stinging heat jabbed at Wraith’s eyes as she watched. It stemmed from a burning within her soul that steadily overtook her entire body. She glanced down at Revenant’s arm still in her grasp, and suddenly the sting turned into a blaze. Down to her bones was Wraith awash in a sea of fire, drowning in the bowels of a volcano. Pure, unadulterated rage slid sifting claws through her bloodstream. 

Her body spun on its heel, giving her the inertia to fling Revenant’s arm back to himself with a rattling clang. Wraith followed up with her pistol. Deaf to anything else, she gave each remaining bullet in the mag its own home within Revenant’s skull.

In the absence of Natalie's weight was his balance lost. Repeated impacts successfully rocked the dead frame until it teetered backwards to rest. Wraith did not stop. Standing over his body, she continued to fire. Each shot leeched from her blood another vial of hatred, of regret, of fury. Every ounce she gladly poured into his lifeless frame. 

The Wingman was clicking on empty, but not even that kept Wraith from squeezing the trigger. She would only be halted by strong arms wrapping her up from behind. One hand over her left side pinned the injured arm to her waist, while the other hooked underneath her firing arm to pull it away from its target. 

She struggled as a cat would refuse an embrace. But that only forced the arms around her to tighten. Legs entangled and feet tripped over another until the two were on their knees, yet Wraith froze only when she felt Natalie's face press into her back. The girl's arms had fully encircled her by now.

"Arrête le vacarme."

Tiny words barreled through her with all the serenity of a sledgehammer.

"Please. Arrê-"

A violent sob rent Natalie's voice. The sob turned into a whimper, and from the whimper there soon came open-mouthed cries. Every tear was an added weight to the sponge that was Wraith’s heart, until she thoroughly ached.

From the heaviness swelling in her chest, to the tremor of her still bleeding arm, to even the empty aura of Path's body returning to her field of view, Wraith was wrung to tears herself. Clenching her lungs against her own sobs, she squeezed her eyes shut and let the drops fall.

It couldn't be helped. Twisting about where she sat, Wraith draped her one good arm around Nat's shoulders as a meager offering of comfort. In return the girl buried her face in Wraith’s chest, soaking in her presence as if that alone could somehow bring shelter. It was all either of them could do - to cling to one another in the wake of such death.

With Path gone, and Natalie weeping in relentless abandon, this could hardly be deemed a victory. Only pyrrhic survival.

And with Revenant's last revelations, Wraith was positive their safety was anything but assured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry chrisis!


	12. Dreamland Jaws

** Dreamland Jaws **

  
Tears were already dry by the time Team Medic came scuffling through the corridors. Forlorn cries that had dragged their fingers up and down dismal walls were now silent in surrender. Natalie was cradled close to Wraith, the latter still helpless to do more than hold this young woman whose sorrow had been sunk by weariness.

But awareness was not all lost. Hearing the others approach, Natalie immediately pushed herself to rise and unfence the doorway to their cursed haven. Dull, lidded eyes were snagged by the streaming red of Wraith's still-trembling gauntlet hand. A wince set a crease at Nat's brow, but was shortly overtaken by a new coldness spreading fractal arms through her countenance.

Nat turned away. Their comrades were just outside the doorway now, momentarily stunned by Caustic's cooling body. Deactivating nodes rattled out their invitation to the squad.

For good measure, Natalie called for them in a dry voice, "Hurry, Wraith's hurt."

"How bad?!" Ajay burst into the room before the others could even poke their heads into view. 

"Her arm. We’re okay otherwise."

Bangalore barked at the both of them, "Could you give us a goddamn response next time, then?!"

Obviously dropping a smokescreen of anger to mask her relief. But that meant little to Wraith as she eyed Nat. The girl’s tone had taken on the same chill as her expression. 

There was nothing either of them could say, for now. Che set up shop at her side, and Wraith's attention wandered about while the medic cut away the tattered sleeve and tended to the red stripes of her injury. Pain was a mere phantom: something ever present to be pushed into the back of her mind while there were more important things to worry about. 

Loba and Bangalore had gathered above Revenant, the former mourning with a hushed voice while the latter intervened with softened words. At length, Loba gave an exaggerated sigh and turned from the dead simulacrum. Heaving such a breath seemed to irritate her lungs - perhaps a leftover from Nox’s fumes.

"I apologize for taking so long," Loba stated quietly. "I… There isn't any excuse. Even before today, I deliberated for far too long, just to prolong his suffering. I should have been more careful."

"You're not to blame for these circumstances," replied Natalie. A hard bite of steel underlined those words. Something of which shook Wraith. "Had I known my Papa was murdered like yours… I would have handled this situation far, far worse than you."

All eyes were on her now. But Natalie met none of them. She was seated at Pathfinder's side. Absentminded fingers traced along the edges of his broken screen.

"At least he had one last moment..." The girl mused, darkness edging even further into her voice. "There was a final minute of... douleur atroce. He suffered greatly before he met his end. Perhaps you would have been more satisfied had you been able to see it yourself, Loba."

"Perhaps," came Loba's hesitant reply. "Are... _you_ going to be alright?"

Natalie's hand paused its fidgeting. Her face was solid as stone despite her answer. "I don't know."

Pain etched Wraith's countenance while the others remained baffled. As torturous as it was to have Nat sobbing into her chest, there was something about this cold façade that killed her to see. Natalie was hardening her heart. If only Wraith hadn’t picked the wrong road; if only she hadn’t failed her sole family so miserably.

Thick, tense silence would be broken by their medic packing her gear, urging the lot of them to do the same. It was high past time to leave.

Bangalore glanced down at Wraith. "I'd offer a ride, but I imagine you're the only other one of us who knows how to fly, pilot. Somebody's gotta take care of the second dropship."

She wasn't about to object, but Wraith couldn't hide the instinctive flex of her freshly bandaged hand.

"I'll manage," she said with a frown at the concerned looks around her. The deep, throaty strain in her voice surprised even herself. 

Nat volunteered, "I know a little about piloting smaller vessels such as ours. I'll stay with her."

"Want me to go wit' ya two?" Ajay asked, watching Wraith closely.

She scolded herself. Anxiety must have been plastered upon her face. Wraith inhaled a deep, calming breath. She gestured to Loba, noting how the woman leaned heavily upon Bangalore despite her attempted subtlety. 

"Go with them. The sooner Loba gets attention the better, right?"

Ajay relinquished. "Y'ain't wrong. But ya sure the two a' ya gonna be a'right?"

"We'll be fine." Nat's suddenly easy voice grasped at Wraith's attention once more. 

There she saw a smile. It wasn't beaming... just a tiny turn of the lips that didn't even reach Natalie's eyes. The unhappy crease upon her brow was persistent, yet there was the smallest of hopes now flickering in that face. 

Nat patted Path's headlamp. "We have an errand to run on the way."

"What's that?" Wraith breathed.

"Pathfinder’s data core looks undamaged."

Springing to her feet, she was there in one stride to see for herself. "Really??"

"It's all here, in his head. His power supplies and primary processor are separate from the AI core and databanks. When the connection is severed, the system shuts down as a failsafe. His data should be intact..." With expert fingers, Natalie pried into the lens of Pathfinder's eye, searching for its release. A click and a twist later, the AI core smoothly slid out from his head. Carefully did Nat take Wraith's hand and tuck the component into her palm. Her face seemed to soften upon Wraith, a look that nearly melted her heart. "He did say he found a warehouse full of marvins similar to himself, right?"

Jaw dropped, eyes wide, Wraith gaped down upon the data core. It was large in her grip, like a thick thermos, yet she could hardly feel its weight. They could bring him back...

She could almost imagine him gazing up at her from within the doused bulb of the headlamp. Just waiting to return home. A breathy laugh escaped her - a single puff of pure relief. They could bring him back!

Small coos from some of the Others ghosted Wraith's irises with a gentle fog when she glanced up to Nat. "Did you know about this the entire time?"

At that question, the wall of stone rose again over her friend’s expression. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest thing to ask-

"There wasn't time to tell you," Nat replied coolly. "And even less time to check the extent of the damage."

His death was a moment Wraith didn't want to remember herself, much less remind Natalie. She bit down hard on the side of her tongue in remorse. "Yeah. Sorry."

A glance to the data core in her hand.

"Let's go get him."

"It's settled then," Bangalore interjected, slapping fist to palm. More than anxious to leave, that much was obvious. "Say hi to the robot for us when he wakes. We'll head back and get the mop-up work started. Hammond's gonna be all over the Syndicate after this, if we're not careful."

The group began to filter out, though Wraith lagged behind to retrieve her gauntlet. When she turned to leave, however, Loba alone stood before her. Just the two of them remained in the dark server room.

One of Loba's hands came to rest on Wraith's shoulder, a heavy but cool touch. 

"I know she forgives me. Or, at least, she thinks she forgives me. Didn't know about Luc Paquette until today, did she?"

Wraith shook her head.

"As much as I hated giving the demonio what he always wanted, the weight of the galaxy is off my shoulders with him gone. But..." A look of sympathy wrought itself upon Loba's face; a look that Wraith had rarely seen on her. "It already seems she's the one bearing that burden now. It's like she's lost her father all over again, I'm sure."

Lips parted in pain at such a thought, but Wraith had no response.

"...Watch her closely. It tore me apart, losing my parents to that monster. Don't let her fight through this alone."

"I won't,” she stoutly replied.

With that, the fateful server room was finally left behind, along with the corpses it claimed as company. 

They reached the open hangar just in time for Wraith to spot Nat scurrying into their dropship. She hurried herself as well into the cover of the passenger bay. Rain continued to drape over the landing strip in heavy sheets, and just as the bay doors hissed shut, their accompanying squad's Goblin-craft burst to life with a cascading wave of displaced water. 

The clattering upon their own ship bounced unheard off Wraith's ears. Hawk-like focus was trained upon Natalie and the chill within that face. 

The young woman was unfastening her gloves from her jacket, and Wraith was shortly entranced by her freed hands as they lifted to push back the blue hood. Scarred fingers - and unscarred alike - threaded through frazzled blond strands. With the stuffiness of the hood scratched away from her flattened hair, Nat reached for an old syringe kit nearby. Quietly she picked through its contents until she found the same medical vial Wraith had used on her bruises once before. 

The longer Wraith watched, the heavier Path's core felt in her hand.

He had been her first family in this dimension. She was only all too lucky to have a chance for him to return. But now the idea stuck her with a needle of guilt that was nearly worse than any before. Her family could be returned to her, while Natalie's... she was losing hers all over again.

Wraith knew her staring was becoming too obvious, with how Nat seemed to be increasingly avoiding her eyes. She couldn't just stand here forever. But concern tilted her head when Natalie applied the medication to her own throat. 

Venturing forward a pace, she had nothing better to ask than, “You alright?”

The hard purse of Natalie’s lips softened with the trace of a bashful smile. “Just starting to feel a bit sore.”

Casual words were betrayed by a severe croak in her voice. Cough after cough did little to expel the discomfort. Nat’s face fell. 

Wraith’s mouth split open next, but - just like her friend - the words had no voice behind them. Tentative fingers were all that remained to speak in their stead. Stepping within reach, her touch came to rest upon the faint inflammation at Nat's neck. Pink lines were splotched with the dotting red of broken blood vessels, a pastel reminder of Revenant's steel grip. Barely the tips of her fingers traced along those lines. Her friend's gaze remained low, and shortly Wraith realized Natalie was staring at the seeping red of her bandaged wrist. 

“Hey…” Wraith finally felt her voice return.

Path could wait. Wraith laid his core to rest upon the nearby bench. She needed to know. She wanted to hear what was going on behind the steel barricading that once bright countenance. Anything to see a trace of a spark return to Natalie's eyes.

With both hands free, she slid her fingers upward until Nat’s face was cupped between her palms. “Talk to me.”

Natalie couldn’t meet her eyes for more than a couple seconds at a time.

“Let’s just go,” murmured the girl.

“Natalie-”

“Wraith.” Slender fingers stroked over hers. “I will make it through this.”

A pang in her chest strung her face into a grimace. Wraith couldn’t stop her arms from winding around Nat’s shoulders to pull her near. With a careful tenderness she nuzzled deep into fluffy golden hair, and there placed the softest kiss - the return of a gesture that had once struck life into herself, long ago. 

"I know you will," Wraith whispered against blond locks. "And I will be there to help, if there is any possible way I can."

She couldn’t stop herself. Arms wound autonomously around Nat’s shoulders to pull her near. With a careful tenderness Wraith nuzzled deep into fluffy golden hair, and there placed the softest kiss - the return of a gesture that had once struck life into herself, long ago. 

"I know you will," Wraith whispered against blond locks. "And I will be there to help, if there is any possible way I can."

A small hum drifted from the woman in her arms, and shortly she found herself trapped in a reciprocating embrace. Those hands of hers were electric as she hugged Wraith closer and closer. Face dipped to her shoulder, Natalie’s body swelled with a deep breath as if she were trying to inhale Wraith’s very presence. Baffling, in her mind. She probably smelled more like sweltering iron than… well, anything that could be considered comforting. 

“You have already helped more than you'll ever realize.” Nat pulled away, though not before sneaking a chaste little peck at the corner of Wraith’s mouth. It was too fast for her to even respond, not that her dumbstruck mind would allow it. "But this fight is my own."

 _“Don’t let her fight though this alone.”_ A reiteration. A reminder. 

But what could she do? Everyone has demons they can only fight solo. She knew this all too well herself. And Wraith was just as effectively familiarized with that unique spike of pain garnered from the helplessness of merely watching a loved one’s desperate battle against their own mind. 

Yet only now did she finally realize the faint grimace currently stringing her own face was the same that Nat had casted in her direction, numerous times, when Wraith had declined the girl’s offer for help in the past. Was it… _her_ fault that Natalie was hardening her heart?

Path's core was being pressed back into her possession. Wraith blinked away those helpless thoughts as best as she could.

At least there was comfort in Natalie's expression again. A soft smile allowed a trace of light to reach through the clouds in her eyes.

"I am so, so glad you are still here with me," said Natalie. She reached forward and tucked a thick lock of black hair behind Wraith's ear. "I treasure with all my heart the family I have left."

She swallowed hard against a dryness crawling up her throat.

"You, above all." The girl continued, then lowered that hand to the AI core, "But that family includes Pathy, too. Bringing him back will help us heal, no?"

"Yeah," Wraith lilted, almost breathless with how her heart was being painstakingly resuscitated. 

The edges of Nat's eyelids crinkled with the mere thought of a smile. It was enough to let that tiny light in her eyes twinkle with an extra sliver of brightness.

The two filed themselves into the cockpit, eager to at last be on their way. Wraith tested the strength of her hand against the tension of the steering yoke. Pain spiraled up her wrist, but it was nothing she couldn’t stifle. Meanwhile Natalie, from the copilot's seat, brought the console to life and began assembling the vectors to return them to the MRVN warehouse. 

But when the comms reconnected to the Syndicate network, there appeared to already be a message waiting for them.

They eyed each other a moment before Natalie spoke, “It’s an audio encryption. Do we play it?”

With engines ignited, Wraith pulled the ship airborne and aligned with their course. “Might as well.”

After a few taps to open the message, Natalie nearly cringed back into her seat upon hearing the first few syllables.

“This message will wipe itself after playback.” Crypto. “Listen close, I can’t be long.”

Another, far more uneasy glance between them was shared.

“She’s returning, very soon. She wants something from you, Wraith. Said you’d understand, but wouldn’t tell me why. She’s changed, in a frightening way. So please be careful. Return to Syndicate Space as quickly as possible.”

A short pause.

"Watch after one another, as best you can. She's become one of the most powerful of the Voidwalkers."

Silence followed, but Wraith didn't hear it over a screaming in her head that even drowned out the Others. Blasey, already?!

Wide eyes bore through the Goblin windshield. Earlier, when the Voidwalker had whispered to her in warning, Wraith never could have guessed how short her time truly was. 

"'She'?" Natalie cautiously asked. "Is he talking about who I think he is?"

"The original…" Murmured Wraith. “Returning to take back her place.”

"She is no more original than you are. Remember that."

The suddenness of such words startled Wraith out of her shock. She glanced aside to see an intense stare from Natalie in return.

"This dimension is yours now, is it not? You promised to stay. So. She will have to leave, even if we must remove her ourselves."

"You heard Crypto. If she's more powerful than before, I'm not gonna stand a chance against her." Wraith glowered down at the soiled red of her bandage. She may have promised, but, truthfully, what good were her promises anyway? "Haven't been able to do shit against anyone so far."

"Forget about Crypto." Natalie almost… snapped at her. But then, "I mean, I know he's trying to help. Maybe. But do not be discouraged by his words. You are the reason we've survived this long."

Wraith merely shrugged in response. Doubt had festered strong within her. A growing rot in the roots of her resolve - and with it came a voice that reached deeper within her mind than any of the Others. Maybe it was her own thoughts, or maybe it was Doubt itself. But it wouldn't let her forget. With a warning for each heartbeat, it reminded her that there was a blood-starved knife out there, zeroed in on her back as precise as a spinal tap. 

The literal storm may have been left behind, but Wraith knew the path was leading them someplace much darker.

Their course was chasing the Typhon sun, though the dropship was only fast enough to keep a dim green twilight holding steady before them. Time quickly dwindled into an illusion.

At least they managed to reach the MRVN warehouse before night had fully fallen. The evening sky was clear on this side of Typhon. Clear of clouds, though not of the residual debris still orbiting high in the atmosphere from the planet’s once-demise. Deep, mossy silence was momentarily shaken by the Goblin touching down on the warehouse landing pad. 

Wraith killed the engines quickly, anxious to find Path his new home. Urgency had overtaken her steps; they no longer had the luxury of time. But what else was new?

To her dismay, however, it wasn’t a mere 1041 Pathfinder frames awaiting them in the warehouse. The army was divided into dozens of different MRVN configurations, strung up, poised, prostrate, scattered every which way. And not all of them were compatible with Path's data core.

Natalie seemed to determine the fastest route from a simple visual scan of the warehouse layout. The energy vault came first; they would need a working battery to ensure Path could even be rebooted. Though their options were certainly limited, energy still remained in the capacitors with a small stroke of luck.

Before long they were back out under stark warehouse lights, walking between rows upon rows of MRVN frames. Natalie turned a fully charged battery over in her hands, examining the build and type. Though compatible, it was an old model, she informed Wraith. Predating the Pathfinder, and even Pioneer MRVN builds.

Didn't mean Wraith knew what to look for amongst the numerous frames she saw around her. "Something vintage," Natalie had given as a pointer. Okay. Vintage as in SRVN MRVN chic or vintage as in old maintenance models? All these and more were present. 

"There they are!" Nat suddenly exclaimed, pointing towards a mere half-dozen frames nestled into a wall of individual storage alcoves. "Aviators!"

Any eagerness Wraith might have felt faltered under a chill roughly seizing her spine. Its knuckles rapped up and down each vertebrae, and she stiffened in place. Wraith knew this feeling. "Natalie. Wait."

She knew… before they even spoke.

_"She's here."_

A forceful growl heaved from Wraith, fueled by frustration and renewed despair. As incomprehensible as it was that Blasey would be upon them already, she knew better than to deny it. There was no other "she" that the Others could be referring to. The telltale whipstrike sound of phase tech snapped through the ranks of the MRVN army. Wraith spun, flinging her focus this way and that to track down the elusive trail of the Voidwalker's essence. 

She would hear it rather than see it. Like a hollow gust of wind did the Voidwalker drift through a row of Angel City commissions on her flank. 

"Wraith-!" Natalie's call.

Twirling her body about once more did no good. Blasey foresaw her actions and reappeared behind Wraith despite her efforts. A hand groped at the holster upon her hip.

She spun yet again, this time with the knife in her grip. The Voidwalker was quicker. Back into the phase she retreated, having successfully lifted Wraith's Wingman. The kunai-slice whistled through empty space. 

_"You're not getting out of this one."_

Face and body scrunched like a cornered animal, Wraith swiveled about to place her alternate. This voice of the Others was different. And as soon as she had spoken, more followed. 

_"She's got your every move."_

_"She knows more than you ever will."_

Of course. Blasey had her own head full of alternates for assistance. Ones as vengeful as herself. There was no way for Wraith to get the upper hand. 

The essence of the Voidwalker led her eyes to Natalie. The girl was ready. Still a threat with a short ranged Sentinel, she effectively discouraged Blasey from leaving the phase by following the wisping blue trail with her sights. 

It dove in like a magpie towards her, again and again, yet was forced to swoop back out each time as Natalie pivoted with dancing footwork to keep her at bay. 

"Stay away from her!!" Wraith bellowed in rage, knowing her words could not reach into the phase, yet caring little. Blasey's Others would translate her words between dimensions anyway.

Thus they did, and the phasewalker reacted in pure spite. The blue swarmed about Natalie with new fervor. Its form traced her very own, enshrouding her in a silhouette of light. No matter which way Natalie turned, it ghosted her movements as if Blasey now resided within her body. With breath faltering and face paling, her head spun frantically about. 

_"Don't fall to pieces now,"_ a snide remark tipped her off. 

A powerful gorge rolled up Wraith’s throat as she realized Blasey’s intention. Old documents passed before her mind’s eye - safety precautions and tactical recommendations for phase shift pilots that she had uncovered when digging up IMC information on the Frontier War. Within those files she had found photos. Some were instructive, step-by-step graphics. Others were in explicit detail: still-life photos of phase shift executions. The aftermath of slipping out of the phase while within another’s body...

Blasey wouldn’t DARE.

Natalie’s twirling form aligned with hers. And the instant their eyes locked, Wraith saw the ghostly blue crackle with growing void energy.

“No- NATALIE!!” Diving into a dash, Wraith’s outstretched hand just barely caught at a zipper. It was enough. From there her hand rolled into the fabric of the jacket, successfully snagging Natalie away as the Voidwalker burst from the phase. 

Yet that salvation was short lived. From behind, a white-armored hand sprung out and caught underneath Natalie’s chin, pulling back her terror-dazed face.

Another yell from Wraith. She brandished her knife, only to freeze as if time itself chained her limbs. Any trace of air left in her lungs was lost when she saw the nose of the Wingman buried into blond hair. Past Nat’s shoulder, the purple of the Voidwalker's helmet hissed open. 

Her eyes grew misty white when contact was made with Blasey's ivory gaze. A sinking feeling burrowed into her stomach. There was nothing in that expression but icy wrath, so cold it seared into her haggard face like a sublimating brand. Glassy eyes were sunk deep within dark, withered sockets, lined by the exhausted red of her eyelids. Blasey's lips parted with an exhale; Wraith saw the cold puff of fog drift about Natalie's petrified countenance. 

While regaining her breath, smugness began to play with the edges of the Voidwalker's mouth. Her thumb reached to pull the hammer back on the Wingman. 

"No-" Wraith gasped out.

"Did Park inform you? I knew he’d turn on me," spat Blasey. Her face crept closer to Natalie, those eyes not giving Wraith an inch to spare. Just barely outside the shell of Nat's ear did she whisper, "Something he excels at, doesn't he?"

A steep frown dragged Natalie's face into despair. She didn't even have the voice to argue. Not that Blasey was open for negotiation. The Wingman twisted and pressed harder against her scalp, hungry.

"Okay..." Wraith dropped her knife and backed a pace away with lifted hands. Words bubbled out of her mouth in panicky surrender. "Just- Okay, listen... Wait a second."

Shame wracked her conscience, rending her heart into pieces all over again. She only ever wanted to keep Natalie safe, by any means necessary. Now, with the Voidwalker obviously hellbent on the girl’s destruction, Wraith was out of choices. 

"You want me gone, right?" She finally choked out. "Promise me Nat won't get hurt, and I won't fight you. Send me back, or... whatever else you want, just-"

"The time is over for that." Blasey bit back with a wicked grin. There was no solace to be found in that expression. Heartless as ever. "You chose this fate."

Wraith gaped with a voiceless cry when the Voidwalker's finger squeezed the trigger. Her Wingman, ever faithful, merely clicked on an empty chamber. 

Blasey's eyes struck the weapon with pure hatred while Natalie's enshrouded face flashed back to life. Lightning fingers flipped the Sentinel about in her hands. Gripping the weapon by the barrel, the young woman drove the sniper stock-first over her shoulder and smashed it directly into Blasey's face. 

Contact was made with a satisfying crack, and blood immediately burst in a stream from the Voidwalker's nose. A growl rolled out before the visor slammed back down in protection. Her grip upon Natalie was not lost, only tightened in retribution. Thanks to the merciless pressure upon her already bruised throat, Natalie's precise movements quickly dissolved into disarray. Sentinel and Wingman were dropped to the floor simultaneously. 

Blasey's hand had released the pistol in favor of her own curved blade. With arm reared to strike, and hand still pulling at Nat’s chin to expose her throat, the Voidwalker’s intent was made all too clear. Wraith strove to intercept, latching both hands about Blasey's wrist to halt the knifestrike. 

It gave Natalie that last trace of leeway she needed. Driving her elbow back into the woman's stomach weakened her grip enough for Nat to slip herself free.

Leaping at the opportunity, Wraith ducked underneath Blasey's other arm. Added leverage from her new position allowed her to twist that limb behind the Voidwalker's back, tight enough for the karambit to slip from her fingers. A firm hand between the woman's shoulderblades held the tension rigid.

The suited body in her hold was sputtering and heaving. With her free hand, Blasey yanked the helmet from her head entirely. Bloodsplatters polka-dotted her face as she continued spitting the excess from where it poured into her mouth. 

"Nat!" Wraith called for the girl's attention. Not a second had gone by where she hadn't thanked her own oversight in forgetting to reload the Wingman. But now was the time to arm her friend. The hand upon Blasey's back would have to move. Twisting the limb in her grasp even tauter with one arm, Wraith used the other to snatch a case of revolver mags from her stash and toss them Natalie's way. Then followed a kick to the pistol to send it within her reach. 

Though Nat was quick to respond, Blasey was just as privy to her intentions. The woman gritted her teeth, casting a deathly glare over her shoulder at Wraith. She struck out with a decisive stomp of her foot. Blindingly quick, like a serpent’s strike, the heel was driven directly into the synapses beneath Wraith's knee. 

A sharp hiss from Wraith gave way to a shaky grunt when the pressure didn't let up. The Voidwalker had angled her boot just right to catch on the knobs of the implants, allowing her to grind against them with more and more of her weight. Wraith jerked her leg back a step. The sensation of thick nails hammering into her shins stole her focus and unsteadied her stance.

The Voidwalker kicked again, this time directly at the hinge of the knee. That same knee that had once been shattered. Never, even with all her extensive training, had Wraith managed to build the muscle there back to full strength.

The knee buckled. Balance was lost. Her hold upon Blasey slipped. And the woman flashed into a phase the next instant.

 _"Keep her away-!"_ Finally, a concerned voice among those Others cheering the Voidwalker on.

She knew vengeance would be swift. And she could ill afford to stand still. Wraith kept face to face with the Voidwalker's essence, fists up and prepared to parry as they both danced about.

"Ready, Nat?"

There came the rattle of a twirling revolver. "Ready!"

Predictably, Blasey tried the same trick on Wraith that she had attempted on Nat.

Shadows painted Wraith's face in darkness when the light of the wisp embraced her. 

The light sparked.

_"Now!"_

Wraith flung her body backwards, entrusting this alternate with her life. 

Her timing was perfect. And yet, so was the Voidwalker's. The woman reappeared with helmet poised as a weapon, already mid-strike. Crazed eyes filled with bloodlust were the last Wraith saw before the warehouse lights above shattered with a blast of providence.

The world was flooded with dizzying darkness. Upending silence stole away every weight in Wraith’s body. Sore muscles soothed, heavy bones alight. There was not a thing present to give her grounding, not a single point of light as a bearing. Even the whites of Blasey's eyes were gone.

Her body lurched about as she attempted to move, but she would only succeed in flattening herself into a horizontal line. She was at the mercy of negative space. Methodically did it close in around her, like stone fossilizing a feather. Within its hold, any sense of danger vanished. The stillness was hypnotic, and under its spell was Wraith almost put at ease…

But... she wasn’t alone out here in the dark, was she? Someone else had been here. An enemy? Or, no, a friend, most likely. It wasn't like she was- wait. Where was... here, again?

It was already fading under waking memory. Maybe it wasn’t even that important… perhaps nothing more than a dream, whatever it was. She was no stranger to lucid nightmares such as these, down to this very liminal space. Weightless darkness was her second home, and Wraith was nearly ready to relinquish herself to this peace that could only be rivalled by two meters of earth. No chains from a lost past, and no hooks from a deceptive future. 

Vibrations grew in the dark. Except it wasn't really dark - merely dim. Her eyes had been shut without her realizing. Soft light graced over closed lids, warmer than any kind of factory lighting. Even the pressure upon her body had eased. Less smothering and more... caressing. Just barely did she peek one eye open. Quaint floor lamps stood guard around her as she reclined into the sofa.

A sofa-?

Wraith stirred, letting her senses train upon the fabric brushing across bare skin. Definitely couch cushions. She didn't mind. They were familiar: not hers but home all the same.

Because this was home, right?

Right. She was waking up. Her reality lay in this place, not in the unending blackness of oblivion.

The vibrations continued buzzing upon her... soothing, almost lulling her back into her dozed state. Wraith's hand drifted to a purring mass nestled upon her stomach, where fingers threaded into soft fur. The source-

A voice bounced about the room like filler from a televised newsfeed. She knew the words were significant, but she just couldn't seem to care. Wraith nestled further into the couch. Nat's couch. Or, well, their couch now- But... no, still Nat's. Her couch, her living room, her Nikola.

Wraith was well acquainted with this place, though she couldn't remember having ever so deeply slept here before. Everything before her nap was a blur. Lost within another bad dream. Exhaustion's typical, time-worn revenge. 

"...phase tech essentially ready to go." The feed was still live, despite there being no active screens on in the room. "I tried pushing things even though there were a few late-stage calibration errors."

The cat stretched contentedly, his little claws clipping across her t-shirt and sweats. Cradling him in her arms, Wraith let Nikola nuzzle against her to his heart's content. He was awfully clingy tonight.

Her ears picked up the words around her more and more coherently.

"Couldn't quite get there physically, but I did manage to interact with some people from your dimension. You both already had enemies, people who wanted you dead for one reason or another. I figured my intervention needed to happen a lot sooner than what I was practically capable of. So I forced a couple things."

Wraith's eyes drooped. She was able to make little sense of what the voice was talking about. Propping up onto her elbows, her head swiveled to examine the room. 

There was a mirror upon the wall nearby, pointed directly at her. Within the glass she saw her own visage sitting upright on the couch. Not lounging, like herself. No eye contact was made; the mirror-image was tilted astride and facing an angle several degrees beyond her, as if perspective itself were skewed. But the woman there was recognizable enough. It was a short-haired wraith. A sunken-eyed Blasey. A helmetless, bloodied Voidwalker. 

She couldn't muster any reaction, any emotion for the woman in that mirror. It was just a ghost. An apparition trapped within her mind. Powerless in its projection. But it was this Voidwalker who continued to speak.

"Couldn’t have either of you dying before I was ready. So I whispered a couple ideas out to your adversaries. ARES’s Scavenger Hunt. Hammond’s bounty. Both the old doctor and the simulacrum took very well to these ideas. Enough to delay your demise until I could get there."

Wraith couldn't be bothered to care. She was here wasn't she? Relaxing in this home with the woman she loved gave her a satisfying sense of security. Nothing could reach her here. The Voidwalker was all talk. And besides. It was late, and she was nearing the end of another week's war against insomnia. Fiercer nightmares were commonplace towards the end of such battles, yet soon after there was always the promise of true sleep. And this would be the first time she would be recuperating here, in Nat's home. Because she… she lived here. This was her home as well now, was it not? 

If only she could just ignore this voice.

"Regrettable... seeing the way you latched onto her. She put you in a brilliantly terrible position. And refused to do anything about it. Even after I gave her all the time in the world."

Flopping back down, Wraith draped an arm over her tired eyes. A deep sigh prompted an exaggerated roll from Nikola's purring. She had almost drifted off again when there came the sweeping of plush footsteps.

"Tu vien au lit, ma spectre?"

Wraith's eyelids slid open to look up at the young woman leaning over her from the back of the couch. She only offered a smile in response, savoring the way Nat's face glowed. The cat upon Wraith's lap was promptly lifted away. 

"Allons-y, Nikola. C'est mon tour."

There came a pout when the warmth of the small body left her, but after shooing Nikola away, Nat strode around to the front of the sofa and held her arms out to Wraith. 

"Maintenant toi," her long fingers wove through Wraith's. "Au lit, cherie."

She followed the tug obediently. Wraith knew her tongue by now. Or... she thought she did, that is- if she didn't think too much about it. It was body language over anything, and it spoke well enough for her to understand. Come to bed, get some real sleep.

It was like Nat never had or never needed to speak any other way. Her ever gentle face was a hook, and it reeled Wraith in as the girl led her by the hand. They never once broke that eye contact, Nat walking backwards the entire way with uncanny accuracy - weaving around furniture and through hallways - until they reached her room. 

The Voidwalker in the mirror was already forgotten. Wraith walked entranced by the near sluggish softness of the figure before her. Nat must've just woken up to find herself still alone in the middle of the night. Her zip-up hoodie had been lazily thrown on, only for it to already be slipping. Slowly the scar underneath was revealed to Wraith, while Nat's tanktop caressed it with a single stripe of white over the otherwise bare shoulder. 

As if caught in a whirlpool of hypnosis, Wraith powerlessly watched her own hand drift forward and stroke over Nat's shoulder with a feather-light touch. How she adored this woman, from the fluttering of her eyes to the widening of her smile. 

"Heure du coucher, oui?"

Wraith nodded as they reached the bed, her mind failing to discern just how the covers managed to spread themselves open like welcoming arms to the two women. Maybe it was the three-foot-tall Nessie pulling back the blankets for them. Nat continued backwards, sliding under the sheets without any motion of turning away. Wraith was close to follow.

Yet the Voidwalker's presence pressed into the room through - Wraith vaguely guessed - the vanity mirror on Nat's dresser. 

"It would've been perfect. You didn't need to be targeted at all. A no-name Wraith dies in the arena, and I assume her place by the time anyone were to check on her in the post-game ward. Nobody would ever have missed her. Except you, I guess, on the off chance you could grow wise enough to tell people for who they actually are."

It was like this voice wasn't even talking to her. Which meant the Voidwalker had been speaking to someone else this entire time... Wraith turned her head towards the general direction of the mirror, despite her eyes remaining captured by Nat's face. She was an open book to the girl. A scarred hand was immediately at her chin to keep her face forward.

"Ma amour. Elle n'a aucun pouvoir ici."

Wraith nodded as Nat's sinking weight in the bed seemed to pull her in like a singularity. They were tucked close together now, with the cool softness of the covers draped over their forms. 

"That future is all but lost to us now. We could've had something special. Blame her for how badly things have gone, since she repeatedly insisted on picking the wrong road. I warned her generously enough. Return to me my place, or I remove you both." One last wave of the ghost's words carried with it a barrage of static in Wraith's ears.

She bowed her head in response, pressing impossibly closer against Natalie, cheek to chest. And when Nat encased her in a tender embrace, she felt the static begin to pulse about across her body. They sank even deeper into the bed. Were it to bury them alive, she wouldn’t even care. Within the plushness Wraith heard little, saw nothing, but somehow _felt_ everything. Each twinkle that buzzed about under her scalp. Each thread of the tanktop pressing against her cheek. Each rivulet of Nat's scar writhing across Wraith's own exposed arm. 

Sleep was overtaking her fast. Warm heaviness laid upon her with such force she felt like she could fall through the bed and into open space at any second. But through the muffled blanket of slumber she heard one more woman speak.

"Je t'aime."

Such words washed through her body like a tranquilizer, yet she stoked her consciousness in attempt to respond. Wraith loved her. She wanted to say it. So desperate was she to do so, one might think she would never get the chance to tell Natalie again. She adored her. 

Sleep had other plans. Its talons had been sunk into her soul, and tore her violently from this plane of existence. Through dimensions cold and searing she soared blindly, until she started to hear more than feel the static imbued within her. Pins and needles swarmed her ears during the metamorphosis. In their wake, all that remained was a head-splitting ring. This wasn't sleep...

...She was waking up. Wraith was still on her side, eyes closed, limbs swimming with a buzz. But the ringing in her ears spawned something else through her body. From the top of her scalp, down her cheeks and neck, over the tops of her shoulders and around her arms it drizzled - the unmistakable chill of a cold sweat. 

“Don’t you move a hair.” That was Natalie's voice. Wraith's attempt to wrench her eyes open only aggravated the throbbing in her head.

But Nat's tone was too steely, too urgent. Something was seriously wrong.

Pale blues rolled open, momentarily blinded by cold warehouse lights. Wraith frowned in confusion. This wasn't Nat's home. With squinted eyes she twisted her head about from where she lay in attempt to place Natalie. But any movement was met with a rumbling in her head and a churning in her stomach. Both were protests that she didn't wish to escalate.

“C’mon, Na-”

“Wattson.”

Oh no. That was Natalie and... the Voidwalker? The icy sensation of her cold sweat gushed down through the hollow of her spine. Migraine and nausea were forced aside as Wraith struggled to right herself… once she could discover which was the right way up. The skin at one side of her face was stiff. Caked over by blood from a split eyebrow.

She'd been knocked unconscious. 

As if dread hadn’t sunk her heart low enough, Wraith remembered everything else now. The tenderness of a future with Natalie didn't exist here. Only as a dream. And in waking up, she was thrown again into the maw of this nightmare named Reality.

Wraith finally located the standoff close by. Blasey’s glare had combusted with an internal inferno. Nat held her ground with fully loaded Wingman in hand.

“Do not speak to me like you know me,” Natalie barked at the Voidwalker.

“But I do. I’ve been watching. I know what you like about us. And I know why _she_ wishes she could have a chance with you.”

There was a levy that had been built in the back of Wraith’s mind. Down there were the deepest of her emotions tightly sealed away. And yet, her dreamland sabbatical had singlehandedly infiltrated the floodgates and armed a host of charges along the foundations. The fuse was lit by Blasey’s tone, and from the subsequent burst of the dam there came flooding a sorrowful river. Tear after tear gushed from Wraith’s eyes in thick rolls. 

“Non. You will not change my mind.” Natalie stated firmly

“What makes you so sure?”

“People are scary. Unpredictable. Many hide their intentions, and it makes trust very hard to come by.”

“That’s human nature.”

Despite the tears, Wraith’s face was gaped open in tense wonder at their conversation. There was no more she could do.

Natalie went on, “But you and Wraith break that mold. She hid from me, yes, but… never once was it for malicious reasons. Despite everything, I always felt that I could trust her.”

Wattson’s arm visibly stiffened with a tightening grip upon the pistol. Wraith didn't fail to notice that the girl was also holding her phase tech. She hardly remembered where or when she dropped it, but there wasn't much comfort seeing it in Natalie's possession.

“You’re the opposite, _Dr._ Blasey. You are so easily read, I can tell by just your eyes that you care of no one’s interests but your own. There’s a lack of empathy in you like none other I’ve seen, even Dr. Caustic.”

The Voidwalker’s head dipped with a simmering grin. “He wasn’t so bad as you made him out to be. He did a better job at keeping you alive than this nameless imposter ever could.”

Those last few words were uttered with a scornful gesture in Wraith’s direction. Never before had she felt so vulnerable, even after all her previous trips to the brink of death. But now-

...What Wraith wouldn’t give to be free with Natalie, to find serenity in the softness of her home. It was all she could think of; it was the mountain spring to her river of emotion. If only that life could be hers. But instead, to be so harshly torn away and returned to this weak, bloodied state...

She must’ve been a pitiful sight, telling from the gratified snicker Blasey cast down upon her. The woman shot cold eyes back in Natalie’s direction. “Imagine if _this_ were the only thing protecting you. This sobbing excuse of a failure. Without strength such as Nox’s, strength such as mine, you'd be long gone.”

“Strength isn’t everything,” Natalie said with a firm jaw. “And yours is the weakest 'strength' of all. The softness of heart that Wraith has retained through all her hardships... That takes a special kind of power that someone like you can only dream of attaining.”

“God, you're unbelievable... So brilliant in the head, yet still so ignorant." An incredulous chuckle escaped the Voidwalker. "I've seen other realities on my way here, Nat. You have an aptitude for true greatness, if only you didn’t have a certain someone holding you back."

The two had been standing a mere pace apart, yet with insurmountable confidence did Blasey slink forward. Not a care in the world was given to the Wingman now digging into her chest, though it mattered little. Natalie did not pull the trigger.

Wraith's tears fell in solid streams by now, in watching her alternate go so far as to lift a hand to cup Nat's cheek. The Voidwalker wasn't wrong. She hadn't even the strength to protest such a sight. And seeing Natalie lower the pistol weakened her further still.

Nat had trusted her as family. As _more_ than family - despite all her broken promises! She had been given all the chances in the world, and somehow failed each and every one. Yet, despite all, she and Nat had reached something together. They had found a hope within each other’s company... only for Wraith to now watch it steadily slip away under her own incompetence.

Helpless. Nothing more. Her future was in Natalie’s hands at this point. Wraith’s soul had been laid open to bare, and she could do no more than await the young woman’s decision. And Blasey was making a hell of a case.

The woman grinned at Nat’s show of compliance. “Maybe you’re not past saving? You’ve been teaching yourself to listen, haven’t you? Show me what you’ve learned. Make the right choice.”

Indignation sparked in Natalie anew. “Nothing you can say will convince me to let Wraith go.” 

There was a power on those words that hardly matched her otherwise submissive stance. A distinct finality was there as well. She was immovable.

"Then this reality really is a lost cause."

Blasey ended with a murderous glint in her eye, but that did not distract from the pointed flick of her wrist to reignite her phase tech. Desperate to cry out in warning, Wraith sputtered and fumbled over the pit lodged in her throat. It didn't matter. Natalie saw through Blasey instantly, pulling the trigger on the lowered Wingman. 

In a powerful streak did the bullet tear across Blasey's wrist. Armor was cloven and fabric shorn, until collision was made with the primer upon the Voidwalker’s gauntlet. A perfect shot; Nat knew exactly where she was aiming when she had dipped the weapon in feigned surrender. 

The Voidwalker recoiled from the impact with a snarl. The new wound upon her wrist might have only been superficial, but a satisfying cloud of dispersed void energy was encouragement enough. Serious damage had been done to the gauntlet, and frantically did the woman grip her gear to inspect it.

Natalie took her chance while Blasey’s attention was not upon her. She slapped Wraith’s gauntlet in place over her own arm, though her painfully obvious cringe forced a grimace from Wraith herself. She remembered the first time she equipped the item - how its teeth bit hungrily into flesh, only gentle enough to barely keep the skin from breaking. Luckily, Natalie seemed to deduct just what this gear starved for, and without question did she feed it. 

Rage had brewed a conflagration within the Voidwalker. Blinded to Nat's tactical advantage, she lunged towards the girl with a furious screech. Natalie was ready. Her gauntleted hand was thrust out in turn. 

A gaping hole swirled open in front of the Voidwalker; fierce momentum carried her into the abyss of space and time. 

Natalie simply stared star-struck at the rift, as did Wraith. Innate curiosity seized them both captive for a fleeting instant.

There was something different about this portal. The spirals of energy were strikingly electric, and were more tightly wound and precise than Wraith remembered. Her own portals had always been on the flowery side in their motions, less rigid. Petals of void light would twirl about like thick snowflakes caught in a wind tunnel. But within the rift punched by Natalie's hand, the light coiled in ellipses that spun so evenly, the two women might as well have been gazing down the hollow column of Wattson's pylon. 

Wraith would be freed from curiosity’s trap by a banshee scream from within the winding blue. Regrettable that the rift needed to be closed so soon, but there was no time for further hesitation. She jumped to her feet. “Close it, Nat!!”

Her voice had returned at last, and it successfully shook Natalie back to the present. They were almost too late. The Voidwalker’s gauntlet hand was already reaching back into their reality. Natalie slammed the gate shut.

With an explosion of blood and shattered bone did the rift snap its jaws upon Blasey’s foreign limb, sealing away the remainder of her body in the eternal coldness of the void. All that remained of her was the severed limb, spinning about within a spray of red. Generously it showered over the two before tumbling to rest, cradled by Lichtenberg arcs of void energy grounding themselves into the warehouse floor.

And with that, Wraith and Natalie were finally alone. Just them, with two pairs of blue eyes latched on the Voidwalker’s mangled forearm between them.

Gruesome though it might be, that arm was their long-sought signal of hope. A grievous trophy carrying a tentative promise. Their desperate fight for freedom might just be nearing its end.


End file.
